


Eros

by SerenadeStrong (ninja_orange)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, BDSM, Dom/sub, Explicit Consent, Identity Porn, Illustrated, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, POV Victor Nikiforov, Restraints, Sex Work, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Sub!Victor, Top Drop, Victor's Foot Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-07 04:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14072889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninja_orange/pseuds/SerenadeStrong
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov has started to realize that owning the best bakery in the city isn't enough anymore. Maybe he'll find what he needs with the barista who works around the corner. And failing that, maybe the professional Dominant Chris just introduced him to can help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It takes a village, and this fic wouldn't be here without Pageleaf and Plalligator cheering and alpha-reading for the entire year I've been working on this, Ineptshieldmaid for beta-ing the first draft, Chaoslindsay (<http://chaoslindsay.tumblr.com/>) for taking on the commission for illustrating the fic, and everyone on twitter for keeping me motivated!
> 
> The entire fic is written and will be posted in chapters over the next few weeks. If you like it (I hope you do!) you can subscribe to get notified when the next chapter goes up.

Viktor’s first alarm rang at 7:00 every morning. He sighed as he switched it off, and wished, as he’d been doing more and more frequently lately, that he was the type of person who could hit snooze without any misgivings. _You used to get up at 4_ , he thought to himself, and made himself stand up. He got out of bed without really waking up, moved to his kitchen for a mediocre drip coffee from a pot on a timer, then back to the bedroom to get dressed. Even though he’d be under an apron and covered in bread flour, Viktor enjoyed dressing well and refused to wear a uniform at his bakery. Instead he coordinated with their branded aprons: navy blue with the bakery’s name “Victoire” in silver stitching.

By 7:30 he was out the door and walking to work. It was only a 10 minute walk and he wasn’t expected at Victoire before 8, but he liked to stop at Cucciolo, the small Italian cafe around the corner from his bakery, to get a real cup of coffee.

A bell on the door jingled as he walked in. The baby-faced Thai boy who was the barista most mornings waved hello and smiled from behind the counter. Inside it smelled like chocolate and espresso, a different sweetness than the yeast and sugar smell Viktor got used to in his own place.

“Regular order today, Viktor?” the barista asked.

Christophe probably knew the boy’s name, but Viktor wasn’t sure if he’d even ever asked. He definitely didn’t remember his name if he had.

“Yes—two lattes and a mocha please,” he said. They were for himself, his co-owner and pastry chef Christophe, and their full time front of house staffer Mila, who was worth three of any lesser employee. The rest of the staff hadn’t made enough of an impression on Viktor to merit hand-delivered lattes; they could get their own coffee on their breaks.

There was a short wait while the milk steamed and espresso shots were pulled. Viktor leaned against the counter and looked out the large windows that lined the storefront, watching the city wake up as people opened stores and headed to work. There were some tables and chairs by the window and a small shelf of Italian cookies for sale on one wall. The decor was old fashioned and a little worn. Even though they had the best coffee within walking distance, no one else came into the coffee shop while he waited.

“Here you go,” the barista interrupted his thoughts. “And would you like a cookie today? On the house, since you’re such a regular.” He gestured at a jar of biscotti next to the register.

Viktor would’ve rather eaten cardboard than have a cookie so stale and uninspired but he pasted on a smile anyway and said politely, “No thank you. I own the bakery down the street, I get all the cookies I can stomach there.”

“Oh!” the barista looked embarrassed. “Oh my god of course! I wasn’t thinking; I love your bakery, I stop there all the time after work. Have you thought about social media? My Instagrams of your pastries always get tons of likes.”

“Ah, that’s so nice of you to say,” Viktor smiled again. A tired, half-awake smile, but he tried to make it a real one this time because even though less and less of his whole life seemed worth it, he still liked that his food made people happy. “I have to get to work. Have a nice day,” he said.

“You too,” the barista answered.

The bell over the door jingled again as Viktor let himself out, balancing the three coffees in their little paper tray. He thought, over the short walk back, that he wished he knew his neighbors a little better. Chris had been telling him lately that he wouldn’t feel so tired of his life if he weren’t so dead set on doing everything by himself. He hated to admit it, but maybe Chris had a point.

He walked in to Victoire through the front door, passed the line of customers, and put one of the lattes down on the front counter for Mila, who was busy grabbing warm croissants from their basket and popping them into a little paper bag. There was an ancient percolator behind her with coffee that they offered to customers for a dollar but Mila never drank the coffee herself if she could help it. Viktor didn’t blame her, it made pretty terrible coffee.

She caught his eye and smiled her thanks before he slipped behind her and around the shelf that formed the back of their sales area and divided it from the baking. The shelf was stacked with fresh bread, pulled out of the oven a few minutes earlier by the apprentices who had started the ovens up when they got in at five am.

In the back, Georgi was taking more croissants out of the oven while Christophe piped pastry cream into eclairs.

“This one’s yours,” Chris called to Viktor, gesturing at an extra eclair without looking up from his work. “I thought of you _very hard_ while I made it.” Viktor sighed and picked it up off the counter when he brought Chris his mocha. As he expected, it was shaped like a chubby little penis. He still wouldn’t let Chris put erotic pastries in the retail display case, so instead Chris went out of his way to annoy him over his morning coffee. Today’s eclair had pastry cream artfully spilling out of the tip. Viktor rolled his eyes but took a bite anyway. It was delicious.

Viktor sipped his own latte as he grabbed his apron. Time to get to work.

Victoire baked five kinds of bread for retail, plus a daily special and wholesale orders. It kept him and a bakery full of assistants busy for a full twelve hour day, 5 to 5, including the work that went into the pastries—croissants, danishes, eclairs, tarts, cakes, pies, custards, and cookies—which were entirely managed by Christophe. The apprentices started early and got the first batch out for retail before Viktor even got in, but there was always something else to do.

Today Viktor was starting with their sourdough boule; this batch would be going to a restaurant for their dinner service. He pulled a plastic tub the size of a laundry basket from the retarder, where the dough had rested overnight at a temperature cool enough to keep the yeast from getting over active. Inside was sixty pounds of dough that had slowly risen overnight and was ready to be cut, formed, and proved again before being baked and delivered.

Viktor dumped the tub out on the table and pressed the air out of the dough. Then with quick, practiced hands he stretched one end out and chopped it off with his dough scraper. He tossed the piece onto the scales for a quick check that the weight was right—one pound—then stretched the dough again, ready to chop off another piece. Pull, cut, weigh; pull, cut, weigh. He’d been doing this since he’d started baking, and could nearly do it in his sleep, eyeballing the weight and rarely needing to adjust it. In just a few minutes the entire tub had been portioned out.

He slid the empty tub to one side and grabbed a stack of baskets. A dusting of flour into the basket, a quick roll of the dough on the table to form it into a round, and it was popped into the basket. When a tray’s worth of baskets were filled they were covered with a floured cloth and the tray went on a rack, and when the whole table full of dough was in baskets the rack was rolled into the proofer to rise.

Later they would make pullman loaves—the shape most people associated with sandwich bread—then baguettes would be formed and lined up on their linen to prove. The day would go by in a blur of cutting and forming, pulling bread in and out of ovens, setting timers and sending racks of finished loaves to the front to be put out for sale or to bins for delivery.

At 9 am, Yuri let himself in the back.

“Oy, grandma!” he barked at Mila, who was a whole two years older than he was. “Coffee.”

Yuri, the newest employee at the bakery, was the only one who exclusively drank the terrible drip coffee rather than use up his break time going to Cucciolo. Mila filled a cup for him and handed it over around the shelves of fresh bread, along with a ham and cheese croissant. He took them with him into the office where he started organizing orders that had been left on their voicemail overnight and checking the bakery’s official email account. He was nominally on a gap year before college, although no one had been able to find out which school, or even if there was one and he wasn’t just making things up.

Viktor paused for a moment, one hand still on the dough scraper he was using to clean off the table before starting his next batch. This morning had been perfect. Everyone had shown up on time, no one had ruined a batch of bread or dropped a sheet of cookies. Yuri hadn’t yelled out a surprise order for a big customer they’d have to rush to fill. Everything was going perfectly.

He still remembered the first week he owned this place, when it had been just himself and Chris filling restaurant orders, not enough hands for a separate retail counter or the money for a store front. They had used to take turns after baking to fill out invoices and order forms. Instead of a desk in the office it had been an old laptop on a futon where they had slept when the thought of taking a bus an hour back to their small shared apartment only to wake up at four the next morning and take the bus back seemed like too much.

They’d been everything to each other then, business partners, sex partners, roommates, friends. It probably wasn’t the healthiest relationship to have but it had worked at the time. When Chris had met his boyfriend he’d been worried about leaving Viktor alone, but by then Viktor was making a name for himself and the bakery had all the business it could handle and more. He was in his element, every day was more and better. They had been moving to a new location and hiring more staff. Viktor had found a new apartment near the bakery. He’d kept busy and thrown himself into his work, knowing that this was all he wanted. It was all he’d thought of, for so many years. And now here he was, with his dream bakery, and somehow it wasn’t enough.

~*~

Wednesdays were half days at the bakery. They didn’t open for retail customers at all and they usually closed the back around three once they’d filled all the wholesale orders for the day and prepped dough for tomorrow. As usual Viktor left last, locking up behind him. He walked back to his apartment, spent an hour in the gym in his building, then went to his apartment for a shower and an early dinner delivered from a nearby take-out place. He sat on his couch that he’d picked because it looked stylish in a magazine and looked at the paintings on his walls Chris had bought him because “minimalist does not mean 'too lazy to decorate'”, and wondered when his apartment had started feeling so empty.

He used to like Wednesday evenings. They were a respite from the overwhelming schedule. He could watch a movie or go out for dinner or to a bar without feeling like he should be working. Viktor flipped through cable channels without finding anything that looked worth watching.

“Stop moping,” he told himself. He just needed a change. He’d gotten this far by doing the unexpected. He just needed something new and refreshing and everything else would fall into place.

~*~

“Viktor, you didn’t bring coffee?” Chris asked the next morning when Viktor came in the back door.

“No, but I did bring something even better!” Viktor cried. He bent down and picked his surprise up.

“This is Mochaccino,” Viktor said, holding up the soft brown poodle puppy for Chris’s inspection.

“Viktor, when did you get a dog.”

“Last night,” he said brightly. It had been unusual but he knew someone who knew someone. Mochaccino wagged happily in his arms, then wiggled to be let down. Viktor watched her snuffle around his feet, then Christophe’s. Christophe bent down to pet her, looking a little in love despite himself.

“She is _so_ cute Viktor, but she can’t stay in here,” Chris gestured at the bakery in all its mid-morning bustle. “It’s a health code violation.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Viktor said, his whole body wilting.

Chris sighed and watched Mochaccino settle on the floor, her muzzle on her paws. “The bakery can handle a day without you,” he said. “Take a day off, sleep in, find a daycare for the puppy, and we’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

Viktor opened his mouth to argue but nothing came out. He had nowhere else to bring Mochaccino and no one to call to take care of her, especially at eight in the morning. He hated time away from the bakery but he’d been absent before when he was too sick to work. They would call one of the apprentices who had the day off and ask them to come in to help and Chris would run things for the day. It still felt wrong to leave.

“Viktor, go home,” Chris said firmly. “We won’t collapse without you.”

“No putting sex pastries in the case while I’m gone,” Viktor said, pouting a little. He hated leaving the bakery when he didn’t have to, even now, when he was tired of being there.

“I promise,” Chris said. “Now go.”

Viktor walked Mochaccino home, put her in her crate, stretched out on the bed with his clothes still on, and went right back to sleep. At half past nine Mocha woke him up with a terrible sobbing whine, interspersed with pawing at the door of her crate. Viktor blinked awake. With his brain still fuzzy from sleep it took him a few moments to realize what had woken him.

“Aw, Mochaccino,” Viktor cooed as he took her outside. She trotted happily down the sidewalk, stopping occasionally to sniff at fences and trees. “You can be the bakery’s mascot!” he told her cheerfully. “Even if you’re not allowed in.”

~*~

He took Mocha for a short walk around the block, then down to Cucciolo. No one protested when he walked her inside so he walked her right up to the counter and ordered his regular latte.

“Anything else today?” the barista asked. Not the Thai kid. A very cute young man with black hair falling in his eyes and thick blue glasses. He looked vaguely familiar, so probably not a new barista, but one who didn’t usually open and thus wasn’t there for his morning coffee run.

“That’s all,” Viktor said, handing over his credit card.

The barista glanced down when he handed it back. “Oh!” he said. “That’s such a cute puppy.”

“This is Mochaccino,” Viktor said proudly, holding her up for inspection. The barista smiled and held out a hand to be sniffed. “She’s new. I need a daycare for her, actually. I own the bakery around the corner so she can’t come to work with me in the morning.”

“Oh, I know.” He blushed a little across his nose. It was cute. “I mean, I’ve seen you at the bakery sometimes and I love yo-your pastries.” He looked back at Mocha. “Technically Mochaccino shouldn’t be in here either but I won’t tell. And my friend pet-sits,” he offered. “I can give you his number if you’re interested?”

_You could give me your number_. The thought popped into Viktor’s head completely uninvited. He ignored the impulse, just smiled and thanked the barista for the offer, then took Mocha to wait with him at one of the little tables. The barista brought him his latte a few minutes later with a shy smile. “I tried to do a puppy for Mocha,” the barista said. “And this is my friend’s number.” He handed Viktor a napkin with the number written neatly in black marker.

Viktor looked at the latte. There was a round-faced puppy drawn in the latte foam with two brown chubby cheeks, floppy ears, and dots for the eyes and nose. “Wow! This is the cutest latte I’ve ever had,” he said and smiled back, genuine for once. Something about the young man made Viktor happy in a way few things did these days. Maybe because _he_ seemed happy, even though all he was doing was making coffees. Someone with such a simple, carefree life. Viktor admired him, finding joy in what he did.

He was thinking about asking the barista’s name at least, even if his number was probably taking things a bit too fast, but before he could the young man blurted out “Excuse me!” and retreated back behind the counter. Another customer came in soon after and Viktor watched as the barista bustled back and forth from the espresso machine to the register with a friendly smile. Viktor sighed and finished his coffee. He looked back at the counter, hoping to catch the barista’s eye, but he was busy and didn’t look up. Well, they were neighbors after all, he could come back and ask for his name later.

“Let’s go, Mocha,” he said to the puppy, and left to go call the pet sitter.

~*~

The pet sitter was a college freshman called Kenji who had a stripe of red dyed through bleached-blond hair and enough energy to wear out several new puppies. Viktor was now paying him a monthly fee for multiple daily walks for Mochaccino as well as command training. Within a week, Mocha knew ‘sit’ and ‘stay’, and was very close to learning ‘high five’.

For such an impulsive decision getting Mochaccino turned out surprisingly well. It was nice to have someone to come home to at the end of the day, even if that someone was a small poodle. She filled a void Viktor hadn’t even realized had opened up when Christophe moved out. His apartment was instantly more lived in and more of a home, less of a collection of furniture. It still wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

~*~

Viktor spent another week wearing the ruts of his life deeper, day after day of work with only a few minutes at either end with Mocha to break up the monotony. The best he could say was he tried not to stay late now that he had a puppy to come home to, but there was always one more thing to get done, and as co-owners he and Chris still took it upon themselves to work the extra hours more often than not. You couldn’t run the best bakery in the city with less than your whole heart in the business, Viktor thought. It was a thought that worried him, these days.

Tonight, Christophe was still in the office when Viktor came in to hang up his apron.

“Almost done?” Viktor asked Chris. “I locked up for you.”

“Just the butter order, I have to fax it tonight or they won’t deliver it before Friday and I didn’t know how much we’d need before Yuri left. Oh, and you got a present in the mail!” Chris called out with an indecent smirk, as if Viktor had anyone who would send him something embarrassing besides Christophe himself.

Viktor ignored his look and took the heavy box from him, using the offered scissors to slice open the tape. Inside was a stack of magazines, the glossy cover showing Viktor in his bakery’s apron, the sleeves of his white button-down rolled up to his elbows, winking at the camera as he licked something off a wooden spoon. “STAR BAKER SHARES HIS SECRETS”, the headline promised. Then underneath, “Award winning Viktor Nikiforov talks baking, beginnings, and bachelorhood!”.

“We should celebrate!” Chris said, looking over Viktor’s shoulder at the magazine. “Unless you had plans you haven’t told me about yet?”

“No,” Viktor shook his head. “Just going home, like usual.” Chris was always asking one way or another if he was dating again, and the answer was always no. He just didn’t have time, or at least, that’s what he told himself. He thought about last Wednesday night, and wondered when it had gone from not enough time to just not worth it.

“I’ll take you out then,” Chris said. “We should go to the Ice Palace, I bet you haven’t been in ages.”

The Ice Palace was a bar and burlesque club downtown, part strip club, part cabaret, and rumored to have private dungeons for rent behind the bar. Viktor and Chris had gone regularly in the first few years of their relationships, dressing up to see and be seen on BDSM nights or simply enjoying the show—and the occasional lap dance—on more prosaic Friday nights.

Viktor hadn’t been back since they’d ended their relationship. Lately, Viktor hadn’t been going out much at all.

“I don’t think I’m up for that much fun tonight,” Viktor said.

Chris sighed. Chris knew him too well to try to push him into something he really didn’t want to do. But he also knew Viktor well enough to know when he needed a push. Viktor could have just left, and gone home. Instead he waited until Chris smirked at him a little, his eyes saying _please, like I can’t have enough fun for both of us_. “We’ll just go have a drink and watch some pretty people on stage,” Chris said. “It’s a Tuesday night, it won’t be crazy. Let me do this for you, to celebrate our success.”

“Fine, you’ve convinced me,” Viktor said. “I need to walk Mochaccino, I’ll meet you there.”

~*~

The Ice Palace was busy but not crowded when Viktor arrived a few minutes after nine o’clock. The house lights were dim but the stage was empty, and generic top 40s were playing over the loud babble of the crowd. Viktor took a moment to find Chris at a table near the main stage and pulled up a chair, sighing when Chris handed him a pink cocktail with what looked suspiciously like gold leaf on the top.

“Cheers,” Chris said with a grin.

“Cheers,” Viktor clinked his glass to Chris’s. He smiled a little despite himself, and resigned himself to his night out.

They were only sitting for a few minutes before the music cut out and a voice came over the speakers.

“We have a special treat for everyone tonight,” they said. “A surprise performance by our exclusive star, Eros!”

Chris gasped.

“What?” Viktor asked.

Chris flicked his eyes from the pole on the stage in front of them to Viktor and back. “Nothing,” he said. “I’m just surprised Eros is here today, he doesn’t perform very often. More of a private shows only kind of guy.”

He looked like he had more to say but he cut himself off because Eros was taking the stage. The dancer was dressed as a cupid, with little white wings on his back and a one-shouldered white tunic whose hem barely flirted with covering his ass. It left nothing to the imagination, from sturdy shoulders down to thick, muscled thighs. Viktor swallowed, hard, when he got to his thighs.

His face was cute, black hair slicked back, his eyes sultry and a little dangerous. He blew a kiss to the crowd and Viktor stopped breathing for a stunned moment as he felt that spark he’d been missing in life flare up inside him. _Oh, God,_ he thought, and then he didn’t think about anything as he watched Eros move through his routine.

Eros didn’t bother with the tease part of a strip tease. He danced from one end of the stage to the other, every movement poised and deliberate as he gathered attention from the crowd. Then when he was back at the pole, with every eye in the room on him, he did a little shimmy, undid some crucial fastening, and the entire toga dropped to the ground as an audible gasp went up from the audience, Viktor included.

In nothing but wings and tiny gold briefs, Eros swung himself up onto the pole and proceeded to blow Viktor’s mind. He was strength and grace and brutal seduction as he stretched and posed in mid-air in arches and splits that gave Viktor an extremely personal view of everything he had to offer. He was upside down with his legs in a split when Chris leaned over and whispered “He’s a professional Dominant, you know,” and Viktor had to bite back a moan and the thought of all that confident power directed at him.

At the end of the performance Eros picked up his discarded clothing and swept off the stage as the music finished on a racing crescendo. There was a ringing silence afterward as the audience recovered their senses, then a roar of applause and whistles when the spell broke. Viktor clapped with enthusiasm and didn’t realize until his cheeks started hurting that he was smiling.

He caught Chris’s bemused eye as the applause faded and quickly took a sip of his drink to disguise his expression.

“What?” he asked his friend.

Chris laughed. “Nothing. Good to see you finally interested in someone, that’s all.”

Viktor protested the assumption without much conviction as the generic playlist came back on and the house lights went up a little. There was a ripple of motion through the crowd as Eros made a circuit of the room, accepting compliments and tips tucked into his costume. He walked the room like he was still on the stage, with a dancer’s posture and a walk that was careful to show off the skimpy flounce of his toga. Viktor was happy to admire from afar but Chris wolf whistled for Eros’s attention and waved several bills in his direction, calling him over.

Eros smiled and sauntered over with a sway in his hips. When he was almost at their table he faltered for a moment, looking at Viktor and then to Chris and back. He smile fell, making him look suddenly more innocent as he blushed pink across the bridge of his nose, and Viktor could have sworn he almost turned around to run backstage but he set his shoulders, locked eyes with Chris, and closed the last few feet to their table.

“What can I do for you gentlemen?” he asked Christophe. He put one hand on the table as he spoke so he could lean into the other man’s space, every move sensual and in charge. It could have been cheesy, like a girl leaning over to flash some cleavage, but his smile was threatening. With the way Christophe smiled sweetly back, Viktor was positive there was something between them that he didn’t know of. That thought was a surprising little pinch of hurt, that he’d fallen so far out of Christophe’s life that he didn’t know what he had going on with this dancer.

“Not for me,” Christophe told Eros with a sneaky smile. “A lap dance for my friend here.” He gestured at Viktor, and Eros whipped his head around. He looked—he looked amazing, cheeks flushed as emotions Viktor couldn’t decipher flashed across his face. It was a hint at something much more human than the dangerously confident man Viktor had lusted after on stage and Viktor felt that spark that had lit flare a little brighter.

“I don’t usually do lap dances,” Eros said, speaking to Chris but without moving his eyes from Viktor.

Viktor glanced from the dancer back to Chris, trying to understand what was going on. Chris was definitely scheming. Eros seemed like he was in on it, or at least they both knew something Viktor didn’t, and Viktor just had to ride it out and see what happened. The house lights dimmed again, and on the stage beside them another dancer started her routine.

“Of course you give lap dances,” Chris was saying over the heavy bass. “You’ve given me lap dances.”

“That was different!” Eros sputtered. “Y-Your friend probably doesn’t even want one.”

“No, no, I want one,” Viktor rushed to assure him.

Eros looked at Chris like he was going to argue again but then evidently thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, the word bitten off with finality.“Let’s do this.”

Eros pulled Viktor’s chair out from their little table with a surprisingly strong heave and spun him around so his back was to the stage. He ran his hands up Viktor’s thighs, making Viktor gasp and close his eyes when they skimmed past his cock, up his chest, dragging his shirttails out, and up to the first button of his shirt, which Eros undid with careful, steady fingers. Viktor’s chest rose and fell under his hands as he tried to catch his breath. He was sure his heart was beating hard enough for Eros to feel it every time his fingers brushed skin and he had to clench his hands into fists at his side to keep himself from reaching out.

When Eros was done he fisted one hand in each side of the open collar of Viktor’s shirt—if he’d been wearing a tie Viktor was sure Eros would have grabbed it. Eros leaned in, fingers brushing against Viktor’s collarbones, legs straddling his lap now they were so close, and his breath tickled Viktor’s ear as he whispered, “Don’t take your eyes off me.” Viktor couldn’t think of a time he’d been harder in his life.

The music thumped around them, the lights on the stage behind Viktor highlighting Eros’s cheekbones and glancing off one bare nipple that his toga didn’t hide. Eros shifted in time to the music, running his hands up his thighs to lift the toga and flash his gold briefs as his hips moved side to side. Viktor watched the light glint off them, the line of Eros’s dick visible for a mouth watering moment before the cloth fell back and Eros’s hands moved up, up over his chest then higher, twining around each other in the air before coming to rest on Viktor’s shoulders.

Eros leaned into him, let Viktor take his weight and teased the idea of lowering himself down to Viktor’s lap. Viktor desperately wished he would and almost wished he wouldn’t. He wasn’t at all sure he could keep himself from coming if any part of Eros actually touched his dick, even though several layers of fabric. Eros held off for a few moments, rolling his body, leaning so close Viktor could feel the heat of his skin, then he let his hips swing lower, lower, lower until he was sitting right up against Viktor’s erection.

With his arms draped over Viktor’s shoulders and his body heavy and hot in his lap, Eros kept up a slow grind in time to the music. Viktor’s nails bit into his palms with the effort of not touching the dancer but he couldn’t help the way his hips bucked up to meet him, finding the rhythm that had Eros riding him like they were in the middle of a fuck. Eros didn’t stop. He ran his hands through Viktor’s hair, curling around him until they were chest to chest and rocked against him, letting Viktor push and grind until with a strangled sob that was almost covered by the noise of the club, Viktor came.

Eros leaned back as Viktor caught his breath and ran his hand down Viktor’s chest, ostentatiously readjusting Viktor’s shirt collar on his way down.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Eros said.

“I can’t believe you did that either,” Viktor mumbled.

Chris whistled. “I’m just glad I got to watch.”

The dancer on stage finished her set and Eros seemed to suddenly remember he was still sitting in Viktor’s lap. He blushed and scrambled up as the audience applauded, turning away from the table while Viktor awkwardly readjusted himself in his pants. Chris held out his bills. “Good show,” he said to Eros. Eros glared at him and didn’t touch the money. _Definitely a history there,_ Viktor thought. “You should take him to bed,” Chris added, smiling. “If you thought he was nice underneath you here imagine what he’d be like tied up and begging for your cock.”

“Chris you can’t _say_ things like that,” Viktor said, hiding his head in his hands.

“Why not? It’s his job, he can take it.”

“Friday,” Eros cut in. “If you want to see me professionally—and it’s professional domination, not just sex—I’ll see you here next Friday.” His lips twitched in a hint of the seductive smirk he’d worn on stage. “Nine o’clock; I’ll be waiting.”

Then he took his cash and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Viktor wasn’t one to second guess himself. By the time he got home that night any uncertainty had evaporated and he was more excited than anything at the thought of seeing Eros again. It had been a while since he’d been excited about something, he realized, and tried to hold on to the feeling. Chris had remained uncharacteristically vague about his history with Eros, hinting only that they’d played a few times but hadn’t clicked for anything long term. Chris was the most flexible switch Viktor had ever met but everyone had their preferences. He’d been an amazing Dom to Viktor back when that had been their thing and he knew what Viktor liked. If Chris thought Eros would be a good Dom for Viktor, he was probably right. Not to mention that lap dance.

When Viktor got to work on Friday he almost thought the day would be different. It wasn’t, of course. He did the same things he always did. But while he was dumping flour into a mixer or pulling loaves out of the oven the way he’d done for hundreds, thousands of days before, it felt different because today was the first day he was going to see Eros afterward.

He waved goodbye to Chris at the end of the day just like normal and walked back to his apartment, heart kicking. He ate, took Mochaccino around the block, and dressed for what he was thinking as a special kind of date. As time tended to on these kinds of nights, it went achingly slowly until suddenly he had to leave and he barely had enough time to choose between a flattering but casual brushed cotton t-shirt and an also flattering but dry-clean-only silk button-down. He went with the t-shirt, and ran out the door to grab a cab.

Nine was early for a nightclub but on a Friday night the Ice Palace was already busy. A curvy brunette was winding herself around a pole on one of the stages to a heavy bass beat and patrons sat in clusters of twos and threes at the tables, watching the dancer and trying to talk to each other over the music.

Viktor couldn’t see Eros anywhere, so he headed to the bar.

“You!”

The bartender shrieked when she saw him. It took Viktor a moment to recognize Minako, one of the managers who occasionally graced the stage with her dance routines. She could do amazing things with a feather fan. Viktor relaxed, happy to recognize someone here even though he hadn’t been going regularly in a while.

Minako smiled at him, a cheerful, laughing grin that took over her face. “Haven’t seen you here in ages,” she said. “Want a shot? Terrible vodka, on the house.”

Viktor shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m—” he wondered how much he should say, then mentally shrugged. Minako worked here, she surely knew what Eros did. “I’m meeting Eros, for a private appointment.”

Minako’s eyes widened. “You’re his client tonight? Lucky man! I’ll take his fee for you.” She handed Viktor an envelope. After Viktor filled it with the $500 cash Chris had suggested he take, Minako tucked it away and nodded her head in the direction of the “Authorized Personnel Only” door behind her bar. “He’s in the back already waiting, go on through. First door on the right, you can’t miss it.”

Viktor walked down the dark hallway behind the bar. It was nondescript, dimly lit and with nothing on the black walls. The music was almost completely muffled though he could still feel the bass thrumming through his bones. He stopped in front of the first door on his right, took a deep breath, then knocked.

When Eros opened the door it took his breath away. His hair was combed back off his face, like it had been on stage, to show off big brown eyes and pink, kissable lips. He was dressed simply in a close fitting black shirt and tight black pants, showing off his figure.

Viktor stared.

“Well? Come in.” Eros said, and turned to go inside.

The room inside wasn’t what Viktor had been expecting. At least, if he’d thought about it much he would’ve expect something out of a porn set, with chains and St. Andrew’s crosses and strange pieces of furniture to tie people to. Instead the first impression was of a small studio apartment, although the gray-on-black color scheme did have something a bit Fifty Shades going on. For a moment, Viktor had the ridiculous thought that Eros lived here like some kind of erotic Phantom of the Nightclub.

Though it wasn’t as obvious as he might have expected, the room was still crowded with BDSM accessories. The fourposter (black, with gray sheets) that took up most of the room had hardware set into the posts, and the walls had tie points mounted at regular intervals. The nightstand probably contained more than just condoms and tissues, and there was a large chest of drawers that could have all sorts of toys inside.

Just inside the door was space for coats and shoes, and next to it, set facing the foot of the bed, a pair of armchairs. Eros was sitting in one, watching Viktor as he got his bearings. His back was ramrod straight, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Take your shoes off and come sit with me,” Eros said, when Viktor stopped looking around. He indicated the other chair.

Viktor did so, sitting back in the chair with faux nonchalance under Eros’s gaze.

“Chris told me a little about you,” Eros said. “You’ve used red-yellow-green safewords before.”

Viktor nodded.

“And I wanted to check… you’re paying for domination, like I said, not sex, but if the mood were to strike, is sex on the table for you? I keep thinking of you begging for my cock… can’t deny it’s a pretty picture.”

“Yes,” Viktor choked the word out, taken by surprise and suddenly hot all over with the possibility. Fuck, Viktor wanted that, he wanted this man over him and in him in as many was as he could get him. “Anything you want.”

“Is there anything you want to add?” Eros asked, still entirely professional. “Dislikes, or something specific you want to do? Chris told me you like painplay and heavy impacts, you’ll do bondage, gags, edging—I’m not sure we’ll get to all that tonight though, if you have a favorite?”

Eros looked at him expectantly. Viktor was coming here for submission, but Eros was here to professionally provide his desires and wanted to make sure he got it right. With some new partners Viktor might have asked for a specific scene, a way to test the water for both of them and find their rhythm together, but he thought of Eros playing him perfectly in the club that night. The air he had even now that made Viktor want to get out of this chair and kneel at his feet. He trusted Eros to get it right, and he didn’t want to think tonight.

“I just want to be yours,” Viktor said. “Whatever you want, for as long as you’ll have me.”

Eros stared at him. Viktor had a minute to wonder if he’d said the wrong thing, come on too hard too fast, but then Eros stood, a look in his eye that sent shivers running down Viktor’s spine. “I guess I should get to know you then,” he said.

He reached out his hand and pulled Viktor up to stand with him. He walked around Viktor once, looking him over, trailing a hand across his back and over his shoulders as he went. When he stood to face Viktor again, he slipped his hands under the hem of Viktor’s shirt, slid them up over his ribs, down across his sides, his touch firm.

“Arms up.”

Viktor’s skin goosebumped as Eros pulled Viktor’s shirt off and tossed it onto one of the chairs. He felt exposed by more than just bare skin. Eros was wasting no time taking control of his body; he felt if Eros looked at him the right way he’d see straight through Viktor’s skin to take all the secret thoughts and fears he kept inside.

There was no sound in the room beside the muffled beat from the club and in the silence Viktor’s breath seemed too loud between them. His skin jumped under the pads of Eros’s fingers as he ran a proprietary hand down the center of Viktor’s chest. His heartbeat sped faster when Eros got to the tangle of hair below his navel, so pale as to be almost invisible and barely darker where it dipped below his waistband. Eros curled his fingers and scratched like he’d scratch a cat.

“I wondered if you groomed,” he said, mostly to himself. “You looked like someone who might.”

Viktor didn’t reply; he was already in that dreamy state where doing anything unprompted seemed to come from a long ways away. He just breathed and watched Eros as he undid Viktor’s belt and popped the buttons on his fly. Eros’s eyes sparkled as he tugged Viktor’s pants down to his thighs, careful not to pull his briefs down with them. He looked like someone unwrapping a much anticipated gift, equal parts excitement to get through the wrapping paper and carefully trying to prolong the experience.

“Mmm.” Eros palmed Viktor’s hip, slid his hand around over his low back, his fingers brushing lightly over his ass. “This is nice. You have a good body considering you spend all day in a bakery. If I were you I’d do nothing but eat cake.”

His fingers slipped under the waistband of Viktor’s briefs and Viktor felt his knees weaken. He didn’t know how what he was allowed or how to ask for it. Could he touch Eros? Would initiative be rewarded or punished? He’d felt earlier than Eros understood him on some kind of instinctual level but he had no sense of Eros in return. In the end Viktor just dropped to his knees, pants still shoved around his ankles and socks still on. He whined and nuzzled at Eros’s hip, trying to tell him what he needed without really knowing himself.

“Oh,” Eros sighed the word, his voice reverent. “Viktor, you don’t have to do that for me, not yet.”

“I want to,” Viktor pulled the words out of himself, through that molasses-thick fog of submission. “I want to please you. To pleasure you.”

“Come here, then.”

Eros knelt next to Viktor and drew off Viktor’s pants and socks, then sat back in his chair. He spread his legs and motioned Viktor to sit between them. “Don’t undress me,” he said. “But otherwise, you can touch.” He combed his fingers through Viktor’s hair, let them trail down Viktor’s cheek to his lips. Viktor mouthed at them, gently kissed one, and when Eros held his hand out, sucked the tip of one finger into his mouth.

His own arousal fell into the background as he let Eros’s finger slip out of his mouth and drew in his thumb, scraping the pad of it gently with his teeth and thrilling at the faint hitch of breath it drew from Eros above him. When he glanced up he saw Eros was flushed deep pink down to the collar of his shirt and breathing shallow and fast. More affected than he wanted to let on then. Maybe the rule not to undress him wasn’t just to tease Viktor, but also so Eros didn’t lose himself too quickly.

Viktor leaned into Eros’s palm, closing his eyes and inhaling deep, smelling detergent and underneath that the musky sweet smell of arousal. He moved forward, let Eros’s hand slip around to cup the back of his head as he nosed at his thigh, up to the crease where his leg met his groin, where the skin was hot even through his pants and the smell of him was stronger. He stayed there for a minute, aware that Eros was hard now, the ridge of his erection pressing against his fly just to the right of Viktor’s cheek, breathing hot into Eros’s skin, and pressed a kiss to the crease of his thigh.

Above him Eros sighed and his fingers curled into a fist in Viktor’s hair. Viktor paused, giving Eros ample time to nudge him in another direction, then turned his head to pressed his lips to the fabric over Eros’s cock.

“Fuck.”

He heard the curse whispered above him as Eros tensed. His hand went tight in Viktor’s hair and the muscles in his legs jumped and froze, like he was struggling to hold himself still. Viktor mouthed at him, molded his lips and tongue to his shape. He reached up to touch Eros’s thighs, and when that was allowed, held tight to keep Eros steady as he licked and sucked at him through the fabric.

Eros squirmed underneath him. He was breathing loudly now, practically panting, and his fingers clenched tight in Viktor’s hair. He seemed torn between pushing Viktor away and pulling him closer. Viktor did everything he could to convince Eros to let him stay. He let himself drool, wetting the fabric under his tongue until it clung to Eros’s length, licking and biting until Eros was crying out and squirming above him.

Finally Eros let go. For a terrible second Viktor thought he’d gone too far but—

“Fuck, _Fuck_ ,” Eros said, and then his fingers were under Viktor’s lips as he fumbled at his own fly, ripping open buttons and wrenching the zipper down so he could pull himself out, his cock thick and glossy with precum.

“Fuck I’m going to come,” he said, and grabbed Viktor’s head again to shove him onto his cock.

He barely made it. Viktor could taste Eros coming as he curled his tongue and sucked Eros into his mouth, jizz filling it and coating his throat in thick, sticky pulses.

They stayed like that, both completely still, as Viktor swallowed around Eros, swirling his tongue. The room suddenly seemed too quiet, his breathing too loud. He was aware of everything around him in a way he hadn’t been a moment before, when he’d been focused on nothing but Eros. Viktor pulled back a little, not letting Eros out of his mouth even as his cock twitched and softened on his tongue. He looked up, looking for direction. Eros met his eye, then abruptly push Viktor off and stood up, moving a few paces away and turning his back.

It felt like a bucket of ice water on Viktor’s back. He’d messed up. Eros was obviously distressed, fixing his clothing and running his hands over his face. Eros had offered something and Viktor had taken too much, he’d gone in too fast and now—he didn’t know what. He wondered if he should safeword. He wanted to crawl in front of Eros and bare his neck like a dog, begging for forgiveness. He cleared his throat instead. “Did I do something wrong?”

Eros’s shoulder’s dropped. “No, no. I messed up. I had all these plans for you…” he trailed off.

Viktor crawled closer to Eros. He needed to help Eros get back in control—of himself, and the situation. “You still can,” he said. “Whatever your plans were, we can do them. Or…I took things too far. You could punish me for that.”

Eros turned and glared. “You don’t need to do my job for me,” he snapped. He looked furious, face reddening and brows drawn tight, but then he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh and Viktor could see the tension drain away from the Dom. With a calm sense of purpose Eros strode across the room to the dresser and rummaged for a minute. When he came back he pulled Viktor’s wrists behind his back and snapped cuffs on, then hauled him onto his feet and pushed him toward the bed. “I think you’ll need a gag after all.”

He pushed Viktor so he fell forward onto his knees, chest leaning against the bed. Standing so he was bracing Viktor’s body between his legs, Eros forced a rubber bit between his teeth and buckled the strap behind his head. “Too tight? Shake your head for no.” Viktor shook his head. The bit forced his mouth open and his tongue back, and he started to drool onto the duvet he was leaning on. Eros pressed a ball into one of his bound hands. “Drop this if you have to stop,” he said, then stood back, leaving Viktor bound, gagged, and exposed.

He heard the smack of the flogger before he registered its sting burning across the meatiest part of his ass cheek. He yelped, the sound coming out garbled through the gag, as Eros landed another hit on the other side, mirroring his first one. _Smack_.

“You’re right, you need to be punished. You shouldn’t have tried to tell me what to do,” Eros said. _Smack_. This one landed across his shoulder blades and upper back. Viktor shivered. Another one, _smack_ , overlapping one on his ass, and Viktor cried out again. Tears pricked in his eyes and the duvet was damp where he was drooling uncontrollably. Eros hit him again, working up a rhythm, alternating between Viktor’s back and his ass. As the strikes built up, the sharp sting of each blow faded and left a deeper, hotter burn that mixed adrenaline and arousal and spread until his skin was tingling with it.

Viktor couldn’t have said how long Eros flogged him or how many hits he took. At some point it stopped. Viktor stayed tense with anticipation, waiting for the next blow for several long moments before he realized it wasn’t coming. He let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding and slumped down farther as his knees gave out. He was lightheaded and his thighs were shaking underneath him and he was the hardest he’d been since he’d stepped into this room. As he relaxed his fingers loosened on the ball he still held, but he carefully didn’t drop it.

He heard the rustle of fabric as Eros knelt behind him and ran a hand, feather light, over his handiwork. It stung. Viktor pressed into it, moaning around the gag as Eros rubbed something cold and soothing over his back. “I didn’t break the skin,” Eros assured him. He unbuckled the gag and pulled it out of Viktor’s mouth but left the cuffs on. “How’s it feel?”

Viktor couldn’t answer. _Good_ didn’t cover it. It hurt, he liked it, it felt right. He wanted more.

“Stings,” he said finally. His voice was hoarse. “But in a good way.”

Eros let out a little huff that Viktor thought sounded pleased. He let his hand drift lower, tracing a line around Viktor’s hips, over his thigh and down between his legs. His fingers were hot and slippery as they ran over Viktor’s balls and up his shaft. His breath tickled against Viktor’s ear.

“What about this?” he asked. He wrapped his fingers around Viktor and tugged, stroked him firmly from root to tip.

Viktor swallowed a moan. “Good.”

“Just good?” Eros asked. He slowly pushed his hand back down letting Viktor feel the tight, wet heat of it. His other hand cupped Viktor’s ass, one finger slipping around the rim of his hole.

Viktor whimpered. He was out of words, he was out of everything except feeling how high he was flying. He arched into Eros’s hand on his cock and pushed back against his finger. Distantly some part of him wanted Eros to fuck him but at the same time he was deeply, profoundly grateful for anything Eros gave him in this moment. Eros pumped his cock a few more times while Viktor whimpered and moaned.

“Come for me,” he said. His finger pressed harder, teasing penetration. “Don’t hold back, I want to feel you do it.”

Viktor nodded. His eyes were screwed shut. Everything he could feel around him was Eros, stinging where sweat dripped down the raw skin of his back, in and around him, stroking his cock. He was close already and Eros’s encouragement sent him straight to the edge. A few more thrusts and he was gasping and coming, jizz dripping hot over Eros’s fingers and splashing onto the bed. Eros stroked him through it, slowing as Viktor finished until he was simply holding him as Viktor started to catch his breath.

Slowly the rest of the world came back to him. His wrists hurt where he’d been pulling against the cuffs. Eros was stroking his low back where he hadn’t been hit, warm and soothing, while the other rested near his softening cock. Viktor’s hands relaxed, letting the ball Eros had given him drop to the floor.

“All done?” Eros asked.

Viktor nodded. Eros undid the cuffs and encouraged Viktor to sit on the bed. He stepped away for a moment and came back with a wet wipe that he used to clean Viktor up, and more of the cream for his back where it was still throbbing.

A curtain Viktor had assumed covered a window actually led to a small alcove with a mini fridge and a couch. Eros brought him his clothes, and when he was dressed, sat him down on the couch and handed him a bottle of water from the fridge.

“I can grab another chair if you want,” Eros said, tone neutral. Viktor recognized that this was his offer of space to get himself together if that’s what Viktor wanted after a scene. He’d rather have the company.

“We can share the couch,” he said. Eros grabbed his own bottle of water and sat with him in comfortable silence while Viktor sat and breathed, feeling himself settle into his body again. After a few minutes Viktor leaned closer, until he was resting against Eros’s chest, feeling it rise and fall as he took deep, even breaths. He felt more content with himself than he had in years. Eros let an arm rest across Viktor’s shoulders and they stayed like that, just sitting together, warm and relaxed, until a small chime sounded.

“That’s the time,” Eros said. Viktor wanted to think he sounded regretful. He sat up and let Eros walk him to the door.

“Thank you,” Viktor said sincerely. “I enjoyed that.”

“I did too,” Eros said. His smile looked genuine and friendly. Viktor’s heart skipped a beat.

Eros put a hand on the door but didn’t open it. He looked away, suddenly unsure of something, not unlike his hesitation the other night before his lap dance. Finally he met Viktor’s eyes again, looking up through his lashes almost shyly. “See me again some time?” he asked. “Chris has my number.”

Viktor nodded. “Of course.”

Eros smiled and opened the door, then waved goodbye as Viktor walked back into the dark hallway of the club. It was like walking back through the door from another world into unexpected reality. For that hour with Eros he had genuinely forgotten that there was anything on the other side of the door.

This time of night the club was in full swing. Minako was so busy at the other end of the bar Viktor couldn’t even catch her eye after he slipped back through the door. He considered waiting, ordering a drink and joining the throng of patrons around the stage. For once he felt full of life and ready to have fun. But watching anyone who wasn’t Eros wasn’t what he wanted to do right now.

_I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow anyway,_ he thought to himself, and left to go get a cab back home.

~*~

Saturday morning Viktor did his best to behave normally, but as soon as Chris walked in the door he gave Viktor a once over and wolf whistled.

“Wow, you’re practically glowing. That good, huh?”

Viktor shrugged off the question, conscious that he was smiling a little more than usual. “It was fine. You’ve been to see him, I’m sure it wasn’t that different.”

Chris scoffed. “Viktor, babe. Please. I know what you look like when you’ve gotten seriously laid. _I have seriously laid you_ , and even at my best—and my best is very good—you’ve never shown up the next day looking like this. I need every detail.”

Viktor ignored him in favor of kneading some dough.

“I guess you aren’t interested in his number then?” Chris asked, voice dripping with faux concern. “Oh well.”

Viktor’s hands twitched. He gritted his teeth and then sighed and turned to look at Chris.

“Fine, yes, it was amazing. Can I have his number?”

Chris laughed. “Take me out for a coffee and tell me alllll the juicy details. Then we’ll see.”

~*~

After lunch Christophe and Viktor walked together to Cucciolo. The perks of being owners—no one could tell them not to take an extra long break. Viktor spent the short walk fighting to keep a smile off his face. Despite his protestations he _wanted_ to talk about Eros, especially with someone who knew just how wonderful the man was. It had been so much in such a short time, he wanted to tell Christophe everything and relive it a little himself.

When they got to the coffee shop Chris grabbed one of the small tables while Viktor waited in line for coffee. The Thai boy from the morning shift—Phichit, Viktor had remembered to ask his name that morning—was still at the register, but behind him the cute barista who did the puppy latte was filling drink orders. When Viktor got to the front of the line the cute barista caught his eye and blushed. Viktor smiled and gave a little wave.

“What can I get for you today?” Phichit asked.

“Oh, the usual—one latte and one mocha.”

“You’re sitting over there with Christophe, right? We’ll send it over when it’s ready,” Phichit said with a smile. Viktor thanked him and went to their table to wait.

“So…” Chris started.

“It was good,” Viktor said. “What else do you want to know?”

“Did you get the D?” Chris asked eagerly.

Viktor tried to give him an unimpressed look—really, who said something like that out loud in real life—but he couldn’t help smiling at the memory of last night. He glanced around quickly to make sure they weren’t being overheard by other customers then nodded. “Yep. Well, I sucked him off.”

“He’s hung, right?” Chris asked.

“Like a horse. And that wasn’t even the best part.” He sighed, remembering. “He has such a hand with a flogger, Chris. And it’s not even that, just the way he _stands_ … he just stands there and I want to go to my knees. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on before.”

There was a small, high pitched squeak behind Viktor’s shoulder, and he turned to see the barista with the glasses, holding two cups and blushing to the tips of his ears. Viktor hoped they hadn’t made him uncomfortable—but he was cute when he blushed.

“Thank you, Yuuri,” Christophe said with a little laugh as if they were having a perfectly reasonable conversation in public.

Viktor had to bite back a laugh himself. He could have felt embarrassed or awkward, but last night had been so good he didn’t care who knew how happy it had made him. Besides, he kind of liked the idea of this barista thinking about him on his knees and naked. He smiled and winked at the barista—Yuuri—and took his latte.

“Thanks,” he said. “Don’t mind us, Chris here only bites if you ask nicely.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to speak and seemed to think better of it, stumbling over his words as he protested “That’s not—I mean—I didn’t hear anything anyway. I hope you like your latte.”

Viktor glanced down and saw another puppy face looking up at him from the latte foam. “Oh! You remembered.” It was such a sweet gesture. He smiled at Yuuri again. “You’re such a good barista.”

Yuuri glanced at Chris. What was it with Chris and all his friends in the neighborhood? Besides the high probability that he’d slept with all of them. Before Viktor could wonder any more about what and who Chris had been doing Yuuri blushed and mumbled something about coffee before hustling back behind the counter.

“So…” Chris said, looking pointedly at Viktor.

Viktor looked blank.

“You still want his number? Or do you want to ask for it yourself?”

“Eros? Oh, yes. Can you give it to me? I don’t want to wait until I run into him again.”

Chris gave him another look, like he was waiting for another answer. “Do you just want to hear that you were right?” Viktor tried. “You were right, I did need to get back out there, go have fun, and everything else you’ve been telling me for years. Happy?”

“Something like that,” Chris said, clearly feeling Viktor was missing the point. Viktor didn’t know what he was trying to get out of him but Chris put Eros’s number into Viktor’s phone anyway, so Viktor counted that as a win.

~*~

He texted Eros that night, lying on the couch with the TV on mute and Mocha snoozing in his lap.

**You: Hi, this is Viktor, Christophe’s friend. He gave me your number. Last night was amazing! Ready for a round two? ;)**

There was a wait just long enough that Viktor considered Eros might not be around before he got a response.

**Eros: Round two?**

**You: Another session? I had such a good time with you last night :) Your flogging technique is superb, and your attitude in the scene was close to perfect.**

There was a longer pause this time. Maybe it was too early for constructive criticism? He’d had other partners complain about it before, but he believed in pursuing perfection in all aspects of one’s life.

**Eros: Thanks, I think. Is there anything specific you want?**

_I want you to fuck me_ , he thought immediately. They had been so close last time, and Chris had implied Eros fucked during sessions. But Eros also been very clear that sex wasn’t always on the table. Viktor wanted to leave that possibility open, but he didn’t want to put any pressure on Eros.

**You: I can’t stop thinking about what Chris said the night we met. If you wanted to, you really could make me beg for your cock. But, you can make me do anything; I want you in charge.**

There was another unbearable wait, and then finally Eros texted back.

**Eros: Next Friday then. Same time. See you there.**

~*~

Life didn’t change overnight. Viktor didn’t start leaping out of bed in the morning and he still felt stuck at the bakery without the inspiration he’d started the business with. But now he had Eros to look forward to on Friday, and that kept the little flame the dancer had inspired glowing for the rest of the week.

Christophe teased him with increasingly obscene breakfast pastries through the weekend. By Monday Viktor was trying to stifle his creativity by showing up empty handed and suggesting Chris go on his own coffee run instead of making prurient eclairs, but Christophe insisted Viktor had to do it. Viktor always got the coffee, he said and besides, he was even getting to know the baristas now. If he stopped going he’d forget their names.

Viktor went without much grumbling. Pastries aside, part of him was hoping he’d see Yuuri again. He wasn’t sure how he felt about making a move. He’d only ever met Yuuri at work, for one thing. Viktor didn’t want to be That Customer who made someone uncomfortable by being overly familiar at work. And even though Eros had been strictly professional, Viktor couldn’t help feeling like asking someone else on a date would be cheating somehow.

As it turned out, it didn’t matter anyway. When Phichit saw him not-so-subtly looking for the other barista, he told Viktor that Yuuri normally working a later shift. He did offer to let Yuuri know he’d been there, but Viktor waved him off. “I’m here every morning,” Viktor said. “It’s not worth mentioning.”

Viktor made it to Wednesday with nothing out of the ordinary happening. Mocha was happy to see him as always when he came home early, her tail thumping around Viktor’s knees as she pranced around his feet, asking for a walk. Viktor sighed. He didn’t regret getting a puppy, but he did wish he could lie down on the couch and stay there until dinner without worrying about accidents in the house. Mocha nosed at his hand. He gave the couch a longing glance before giving in and getting her leash.

“You’re ready for a walk girl?” Viktor asked as he clipped her leash on. She was getting big, he noticed as she woofed happily. Viktor took her around the block, where she did her business, then without really thinking about it found himself outside Cucciolo again. There were a few people at the tables with books or laptops but the cafe wasn’t busy. Viktor tied Mocha to a chair outside, told her to stay, and went in.

Yuuri wasn’t there—again. Phichit was at the register with his familiar smile and a short, surly looking guy with an undercut was manning the espresso machine.

“Yuuri’s not here today,” Phichit volunteered when Viktor got to the front of the line. “He asked me to take his shift.”

“Oh,” Viktor said, not sure what it meant that Phichit thought he would care—or maybe Yuuri thought Viktor might ask for him, and he’d left the message with his friend. The thought cheered him. “That’s fine,” Viktor said. “You make great lattes too.”

Phichit laughed like they were in on a joke together and took his order, telling him he’d bring it out to Viktor’s table when it was ready.

~*~

Phichit came outside a few minutes later with two cups, put one down in front of Viktor and pulled up a chair to sit across from him with the other one. Viktor watched in confusion. Surely his minimal attempts at conversation hadn’t been interpreted as inviting Phichit out for coffee.

“Sorry to impose on you like this,” Phichit said, noticing his confusion. “I actually have a business proposition for you. You see, Yuuri and I are in the process of buying Cucciolo from Celestino—the current owner. At first we were thinking about wholesaling from you, but the more we thought about it the more we wanted to do something more. So, as new owners we’d like to start an official collaboration with your bakery. We can cross promote and hopefully both expand our customer base. What do you think?”

Viktor took a sip of his latte as he tried to digest what Phichit had just thrown in front of him. The thought suddenly came to him that he could sell the bakery entirely. Wash his hands of whatever was causing this melancholy, go do something else. But the thought left as quickly as it had come. Victoire was _his_ , and he’d been missing something. _Victoire_ was missing something. Maybe this was what his bakery needed right now.

“What did you have in mind?” Viktor asked.

~*~

Viktor thought about Phichit’s proposal on the walk back to his apartment. There was a lot of room to hash out the details but overall it was simple—Cucciolo would serve espresso at Victoire, and Victoire would do pastries for Cucciolo. There would be joint marketing and Phichit had proposed a customer rewards program. He’d have to ask Christophe about it, and they’d have to see how it worked out financially, but everything on the surface seemed good.

When Viktor brought it up Thursday morning Chris pounced on the idea.

“It’s a wonderful idea! We’ll boost each other’s profiles—of course, Victoire will be the one pulling Cucciolo up at first in terms of press but their coffee here will be a boost for us as well. I wonder if Yuuri and Phichit will have space in their new pastry cases for some _special_ pastries…”

Viktor rolled his eyes as Christophe got lost in thought over new venues to display his particular kind of art but he was smiling as he turned away and went back to his baking.

~*~

After a week that had generally gone well, Friday was a distinct downturn. Mocha peed in his kitchen before he could let her out in the morning, more than one batch of bread went wrong at Victoire, and there was a mix up with wholesale orders that left Christophe scrambling to make more pastries than anyone should try to handle in one afternoon. He was so distracted by one disaster after another that Eros went completely out of his head until he was closing up at the end of the day and Christophe, as usual, asked if he had any plans.

“No,” Viktor started to say out of habit, before suddenly remembering that wasn’t true. “Nothing much, I mean.” He considered not mentioning his appointment with Eros, but Chris would find out anyway and then be hurt he didn’t get the gossip first hand. “I’m seeing Eros again tonight.”

“That’s nothing?” Chris said, raising an eyebrow.

Viktor shrugged, trying to play it cool. “You know how it is. Just business.”

“Just business,” Chris scoffed. “Well, send him my love when you see him,” he said, and blew Viktor a kiss.

~*~

Viktor got to the Ice Palace early and found a spot at the bar among the after-work crowd. Minako waved when she saw him, and came over a few minutes later.

“Bottoms up!” she said with a wink and poured two generous shots out between them.

Viktor laughed and took his, holding it up to clink with hers before downing it in one swallow. He winced at the taste.

“Marshmallow?” he asked.

“Got it in one. This a social call or are you seeing the pride and joy of the Ice Palace again tonight?” Minako filled his shot glass again—the good stuff this time.

“The latter. Not until nine though.”

Minako narrowed her eyes and grinned like a fox. “Eager are you?”

“I thought if I was really lucky I’d catch you gracing the stage before my appointment,” Viktor volleyed back.

Minako laughed. “Maybe next time. I should go back to work. Have fun tonight.”

Viktor raised his glass in a toast to her. “Thanks, I’m sure I will.”

At nine on the dot Viktor went through the door behind the bar, down the dark hallway to Eros’s door, and knocked softly.

Eros opened it in the same outfit as last week, simple black on black. After a moment just taking him in, Viktor noticed there was gold dust on his temples and liner around his eyes.

“Were you dancing tonight?” Viktor asked, reaching up to brush his thumb through the gold powder. He remembered what Eros had looked like on the pole and felt his knees go weak. He was staying upright through sheer force of will.

“Yeah,” Eros said. His breath ghosted over Viktor’s pulse point. “I…I’ve had a lot on my mind. Dancing takes me somewhere else.” He pulled back. “Come in, close the door.”

Eros walked directly to the big bed and sat down against the headboard. He stretched out his legs, crossing his ankles. He hadn’t bothered to take off his shoes. Viktor followed halfway across the room then paused, unsure what he was supposed to do.

Eros beckoned him over. “Come sit with me.”

Viktor went, and sat next to Eros, placing himself to Eros’s left with a few inches between them. Eros watched as he got settled, eyes raking up and down Viktor’s body so possessively Viktor could feel it like a touch.

“You’ll do anything I want, right?” Eros said once he was seated.

“Yes,” Viktor said, wondering what Eros would ask for.

“Rub my feet?” It was almost a question, and that tiny sliver of vulnerability in his voice made something hot and needy rush through Viktor.

“Of course,” Viktor said.

Eros shifted sideways, putting his feet in Viktor’s lap and curling into himself so he could rest his head on Viktor’s shoulder. This close, Viktor could see he looked tired under the glitter.

Viktor untied the laces of Eros’s shoes. They were cheap black leather with clean soles and stiff laces. Something he only wore occasionally then, maybe only for scenes. He carefully loosened them before sliding them off Eros’s feet. He leaned over to place them next to the bed, then hooked his fingers into one of Eros’s socks. He glanced at Eros to check that this was ok. Eros nodded, so Viktor slid it down over his ankle, over the arch of his foot, over his toes, then did the same to the other.

His feet were callused and heavily bruised in places, the skin pale and hairless below the ankle. Viktor took one in each hand. He smoothed his hands over the skin, then rubbed his thumbs in circles, digging into the arches. Eros moaned into his shoulder.

“Good?” he asked, just to hear Eros’s murmured “Yes” back.

Viktor shifted his hold to wrap both hands around Eros’s right foot, fingers interleaved over his instep and thumbs on his arch. Viktor rubbed lightly, careful of the purpling bruise on his instep where his foot hit against the pole. Viktor drew his thumbs together pressing in and up, the muscle flexing under his hands. Eros relaxed against him minutely, his breath coming out in a sigh.

They continued like that for a few minutes, Viktor gently pressing away the tension and Eros warm against his side, occasionally making contented hums when Viktor hit a sore spot. Eventually Viktor let Eros’s right foot go and switched to his left, caressing and stroking it before digging his thumbs in. Eros relaxed into his touch for a few minutes. Slowly he shifted and reached out a hand, placing it deliberately on the front of Viktor’s pants. Viktor was completely soft but just the weight of Eros’s hand on him made his blood rush and his cock start to fill.

“You don’t have to,” Viktor said.

“I know. You’re mine tonight, right?” Eros looked up to catch his eyes and Viktor’s mouth went dry at the look on Eros’s face, the commanding desire of someone who knew how to get what they wanted. Viktor nodded. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“Then relax. I want to do this.”

Viktor hadn’t even been thinking about getting off since he’d sat on the bed but it was so easy to let Eros take over. His arousal spread gently as Eros stroked him through the fabric, a warm pleasure that pooled and coiled in his groin without any urgency. He did his best to keep up his work on Eros’s feet in the meantime, massaging in a strange counterpoint to Eros’s hand on his cock.

When Viktor felt Eros’s left foot was as relaxed as he could make it, he went back to holding both in his hands, idly running his fingers over warm skin. Eros wiggled a foot free. “I didn’t tell you to stop,” he said, and pressed his foot snug against Viktor’s cock.

Viktor bit back a gasp.

Eros smirked and pressed his toes along Viktor’s shaft.

“Is this a thing for you? You get off on feet?”

Viktor’s cheeks heated. He’d honestly never thought he did but Eros…something about watching him dance, and then having that powerful body working him over later, feet very much included, was really doing it for him. Viktor always had appreciated competence in a partner, and Eros certainly was very good with his feet.

“I like _your_ feet,” he said.

Eros seemed to find that acceptable.

“Take your cock out,” he said as he sat up. He scooted down the bed until he was sitting at the foot of it, facing Viktor with his feet in Viktor’s lap. “And hands behind your head. Grip the headboard if you want to, but no touching.”

Viktor quickly unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out, groaning as Eros gripped his cock with feet used to gripping a stripper pole. He reached up and grabbed the headboard for dear life as Eros leaned back on his hands and went to work. His feet and toes gripped and squeezed and stroked, quickly bringing Viktor to the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” Viktor panted, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back against the exquisite feeling.

“Do it, don’t hold back,” Eros said, and Viktor groaned and let go, letting his orgasm rush through him, hips thrusting against the hold Eros still had on his cock as he came.

Eros’s feet slipped over his cock as come ran between them, coating his toes and dripping down to Viktor’s balls. Eros kept stroking, getting himself thoroughly messy, until Viktor couldn’t help whimpering at the touch on his oversensitive skin.

“Good?” Eros asked.

“Yeah.” Viktor was still panting, trying to catch his breath.

Eros gracefully raised one foot, toes pointed, and tapped them on Viktor’s lips. “Clean me up,” he said.

Viktor opened his mouth for him and tasted himself as he tongued lazily between Eros’s toes. He smelled clean, just soap under the sharp smell of semen. It would have been easier to take his hands off the headboard and hold his foot steady, but Eros didn’t say he could and Viktor didn’t ask. He just kept his mouth open and his tongue working.

At first Eros didn’t seem moved by the attention, but after a few minutes he shifted, splaying his other leg out and palming himself.

“You don’t mind?” he asked. Viktor shook his head.

Eros undid his fly. He barely pulled his cock out, just let the head of it peak out of his clothing as he stroked himself. Viktor redoubled his efforts, nipping the pads of Eros’s toes, bringing his hands down to cup Eros’s heel and trace up his ankle and calf. Eros watched him with wide eyes. He was quiet except for increasingly harsh, panting breaths, and when he came he threw his head back, mouth open in a silent, gasping O.

He flopped back on the bed after, letting his leg fall to one side. Viktor relaxed against the headboard, pleasantly brainless from his own orgasm and the site of Eros so lost in pleasure in front of him. Eventually Eros swung himself around to grab wet wipes from the nightstand and cleaned them both up. He tucked himself back into his pants and waited for Viktor to do the same, then settled back against Viktor’s side.

“Is there anything you wanted to do tonight? It’s your session, after all.”

Viktor wrapped an arm around Eros’s shoulders, tugging him close. He still looked tired, though less preoccupied by whatever it was that was weighing on him.

“No,” Viktor said. “This is good.”

~*~

Viktor didn’t even wait until the next day to text Eros again. He sent a quick note on his way home, just to say he’d had a great time. They’d hardly even done anything. After Eros rubbed him off they’d dozed off together, waking up when Eros’s alarm buzzed for the end of the session. Viktor had almost kissed him when they’d both blinked awake, but Eros sat up too quickly and apologized for wasting the rest of their session together.

It hadn’t been a waste. No time spent with Eros was a waste, in Viktor’s opinion. He’d left with warmth still tucked behind his heart and texted Eros to make sure he knew how much he’d enjoyed it.

Mochaccino met him at the door to his apartment, following at his heels as he took off his shoes and got dressed for bed. She hopped up next to him when he lay down, wuffing quietly as she turned a few times and settled on the other pillow. She blinked at him sleepily, and he smiled and scratched between her ears.

“I think I’m in love,” he said.

Mocha snored.


	3. Chapter 3

Yuuri groaned. Waking up after his second session with Viktor felt like some kind of feelings hangover. Everything that had been so wonderful the night before was suddenly sour and painful to think about. It had all felt so good at the time—it had been so intimate, so honest between them. As soon as Viktor had held Yuuri’s bare feet in his hands he’d ceased being Eros and just been Yuuri, needing to be cared for and finding what he needed in the other man in his bed. If he hadn’t fallen asleep afterward Yuuri was sure he would’ve spilled all his worries to Viktor—taking over Cucciolo, living up to Viktor’s local legacy, maybe even leaving the club behind to focus on the cafe—and last night it had felt easy, natural even to trust Viktor with those fragile parts of himself.

Now, with his phone alarm buzzing to wake him up for his afternoon shift, all Yuuri could think about was what a terrible idea last night had been. How could he be a professional Dom and then ask someone for nothing except a foot rub? He may as well have cried on Viktor’s shoulder and been done with it. Thank God he hadn’t confessed his fears about taking over Cucciolo or Viktor really would have thought he was pathetic. Yuuri was 25; when Viktor was 25 he’d already owned Victoire for two years and had been working on its expansion.

Yuuri ground his face into his pillow as if he could wipe away all the stupid things he’d ever done in front of his idol-slash-crush-slash-sex-client. He never should have agreed to take Viktor as a client in the first place. And that was the other thing.

He’d known as soon as Chris had goaded him into the lap dance that he wasn’t going to be able to treat Viktor as he would any other client. He’d gone for it anyway, and at first he’d had a childish hope that Viktor would return his feelings. But so far, Viktor had made it very clear he was only interested in Yuuri for his professional services.

When he’d seen Viktor and Chris come in for coffee after their first night together Yuuri had almost gone to hide in the bathroom. He’d been terrified that Viktor would betray his other profession in front of the cafe’s customers—not everyone was so open minded about sex work. Instead, Viktor had practically acted like they’d never met. Telling him he was a “good barista”? Obviously Viktor wanted to pretend they didn’t know each other outside of the cafe. Yuuri valued discretion, but that had hurt.

Last night had been perfect, but perfect for one hour a week wasn’t enough. He’d have to tell Viktor soon that he couldn’t do it anymore. Not if he had to pretend he didn’t care.

Eventually Yuuri got himself of bed. He tried not to think about Viktor while he ate breakfast and splashed water on his face instead of taking a shower, and had almost managed to focus on his day job by the time he got to Cucciolo in time to start his shift.

Phichit smiled at him knowingly when Yuuri walked in the door. “Late night?” he asked, and reached up to flatten Yuuri’s hair where his bed head was sticking up every which way.

Yuuri blushed despite himself and ducked his head away, hoping Phichit wouldn’t push. He didn’t want to talk about what he’d been doing last night—or who he’d been doing it with. “Just work,” he mumbled.

Phichit laughed and danced away, not seeming to notice anything was wrong with Yuuri. “Sara’s already here,” he said. “She’s just downstairs getting more beans. And I heard from our lawyer, they said once they get signed copies of the paperwork back from Celestino we’re officially owners!”

“Wow,” Yuuri heaved a sigh. He’d been working toward owning his own business for years and now that it was here he felt woefully under prepared.

“Aw, not even a smile? Is something wrong?” Phichit’s excitement faded and he reached to lay a comforting hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri turned, startled. “I’m not unhappy,” he protested. “I guess it’s just a lot, now that it’s actually happening.” He pulled up a smile though, for Phichit. He didn’t deserve to shoulder Yuuri’s worries too, not when he’d been managing the logistics for their purchase.

“You know we can do it,” Phichit said. “We’ve been practically running this place for a year now, this is just the paperwork.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Yuuri sighed again and then straightened himself up. “You should go clock out already, I can take it from here.”

“Ok,” said Phichit. He hesitated for a moment, as if he had something else to say, then smiled again at Yuuri and left.

~*~

Sunday night, with the paperwork due to go through the next morning, Phichit opened a bottle of champagne in the empty cafe to celebrate. Yuuri clinked glasses with him and chugged it down, willing himself to put aside any thoughts about Viktor and focus on what was in front of him—Cucciolo, and making it the best cafe it could be. They had plans—a grand re-opening, a few things to spruce up the place, and of course, the partnership with Victoire.

Yuuri didn’t want to think about their plans with Victoire. The thought of having to look Viktor in the eye and talk about curb appeal and marketing and, and _customer retention_ , when a few days ago he’d had the man naked underneath him made him wince. And the whole time he’d know that Viktor didn’t really want him. Had never really wanted him, he’d just wanted someone for a good time, and Yuuri couldn’t even do that right.

“Something on your mind?” Phichit asked as he topped up Yuuri’s glass. His eyes were sparkling and he looked ready to take on the world. Sometimes Yuuri thought he was friend with Phichit just in the hope that some of that spark would rub off on him.

“Just thinking,” he said.

“Thinking about your cru-ush?” Phichit sing-songed.

“No,” Yuuri said, hoping Phichit wouldn’t press him on it.

He’d told Phichit about the lap dance. He couldn’t have kept it to himself, getting his hands on Viktor like that after dreaming about him for so long. But some sense of self preservation had kept him from telling his friend about taking Viktor on as a BDSM client. He’d known all along it was a stupid thing to do, and he didn’t want Phichit to tell him so too.

Phichit kept staring at him expectantly as he sipped his own glass of champagne much more delicately than Yuuri had.

“It’s dumb,” Yuuri said.

Phichit nodded, encouragingly, and made a “keep going” gesture.

Ugggggggh. He could never keep stuff from Phichit when Phichit wanted to know something. “I slept with Viktor,” he confessed. “Professionally. You know, as Eros.”

“And!?”

“And nothing!” Yuuri snapped. “He doesn’t return my feelings, so. We’re not going to do it again. That’s all.”

“Aww, I’m sorry,” Phichit said. He topped up Yuuri’s glass and emptied the rest of the bottle into his own. “I thought he liked you too.”

Yuuri took a sip of champagne and shrugged. Didn’t matter now, anyway.

“Well, drink up,” Phichit said, raising his glass. “We’re celebrating anyway. Here’s to us, and here’s to Cucciolo!”

~*~

After another bottle of champagne Yuuri was almost drunk enough to think it was a good idea to see Viktor again after all. When his phone buzzed with a text from Viktor’s number he scrambled to open it, heart racing and a flood of possibilities going through his mind. Viktor would tell him how sweet he was last night. How excited he was to work together, how much he enjoyed Yuuri’s company…

**Viktor: I know we just saw each other, but are you free again next Friday? Same place same time? Maybe this time you’ll get me begging ;)**

Fuck. His hands shook so hard he dropped his phone. His eyes blurred with tears he refused to let fall.

“Yuuri?” Phichit was next to him, picking up his phone and pulling Yuuri to sit down with him on the floor.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said. “Sorry, it’s just.” He waved at the phone, giving Phichit permission to read it. “I haven’t actually told him it won’t work out yet. I just. I know he doesn’t like me like that. Sorry,” he said again, as Phichit pulled him into a hug. “I’m getting your shirt wet.”

“Shush,” Phichit told him, and hugged him tighter. “Viktor doesn’t deserve you.”

Yuuri sniffled into his shoulder. He didn’t deserve a friend as good as Phichit.

~*~

The next morning, Yuuri pulled up Minako’s contact on his phone and stared at the “call” button.

He’d started copying her dance moves when he started middle school and the pressure of exams got to be too much. She was an old school friend of his mom’s, and he’d gone to her place when he didn’t know what to do with himself at home. When he was on stage, even when the club was empty and the house lights were up, it was like he was a different person. He wasn’t shy, awkward Yuuri. He was a femme fatale, a seducer, a playboy. As he got older the club had always been his refuge from the stresses of real life, except now if he went there as Eros he might have to see Viktor again. Another reason seeing Viktor had been a mistake.

Last night, with Phichit looking over his shoulder, he’d texted Viktor. **I’m sorry,** Yuuri had sent. **I’m not going to be seeing clients again until further notice.**.

He should tell Minako he wouldn’t be in, even though she never scheduled him like a regular employee.

_I need to focus on Cucciolo anyway, _he told himself, and hit call.__

__“Ice Palace, Minako here,” she answered the phone._ _

__“Minako? It’s Yuuri. Sorry… I may not be at the club for a few weeks.”_ _

__“A few weeks? What’s wrong?”_ _

__“Nothing,” he said, but his voice wavered a bit. “I’m officially an owner of Cucciolo today. Phichit has a lot of big ideas, I’ll need to focus on that I guess.”_ _

__He could hear her frowning at him through the phone. _That won’t take weeks_ , he could hear her thinking. _You managed both before, why not now?__ _

__“What about the back rooms?” she asked. “Should I save one for you or leave it open for other rentals?”_ _

___Keep it for me_ , he almost said. _Friday at nine, I have a standing appointment_._ _

__“No, you can rent it out,” he said. “I’m not going to be seeing anyone for a while.”_ _


	4. Chapter 4

On Monday it was official—they owned the cafe. When they closed Monday evening they put a little sign in the window: “closed for renovations, please come back next week!” and spent the rest of the night putting down drop cloths. Over the rest of the week they painted and refinished, changed out the furniture, and installed a brand-new pastry case for the counter.

On Wednesday evening they had a meeting at Victoire to officially hash out the details of the baked goods they would sell at Cucciolo. Yuuri tried and failed all morning to think of a good excuse not to go but Phichit wouldn’t listen to him and insisted he had to be there. He was sick to his stomach with nerves by the time they walked in the back door of the bakery, but in the end it all came to nothing.

“Viktor just left to pick up his puppy, Mochaccino,” Chris told them. “And since he’s not here, can I persuade you to consider a more _mature_ theme for your pastry counter?”

~*~

Yuuri really had meant to stay away from the Ice Palace but he was too tense after that meeting to stay away. He got there before they opened, and let himself in through the stage door. He felt like he was shaking out of his skin with tension; he couldn’t focus on anything besides all the ways this—him, Cucciolo, Viktor—could go wrong.

The stage wasn’t completely empty. His childhood friend Yuuko was stretching against the pole on stage left, and Kenjiro was working on choreography in the corner of stage right, counting to himself and pawing at the air as he marked different movements. Yuuri stripped to his boxers, put his glasses carefully on top of his pile of clothes, and walked to the pole at center stage.

He grabbed it with both hands and easily swung himself off the ground, spinning slowly as he let himself drift back down.

With one hand gripping firmly, the other at his side, he walked around the pole, placing each foot deliberately and swinging his hips. Yuuko always said he should do a routine in heels when she saw him practice his walk. He wondered if Viktor’s foot thing would extend to heels. He could wear black patent leather, something really sexy…

But he wouldn’t, because they weren’t going to see each other again like that. No more mixing business and pleasure. Yuuri sped up his walk, using the momentum and sheer upper body strength to let himself float for a moment. One foot brushed the ground and he launched himself higher, twisting up and around and this time holding himself inverted on the pole, carefully looking at nothing as it spun.

He was still thinking about Viktor when he lowered himself to the stage again. This wasn’t working. He sat down and flopped away from the pole, lying stretched out on stage with the pole at his feet. If he tilted his head back, he could see Yuuko where she doing a handstand near the far wall. She noticed him watching when she flipped back to stand, and walked over.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

Yuuri just sighed.

“Yuuri,” she said sympathetically. She sat down cross legged near his head “What’s going on?”

Yuuri rolled away from her onto his side. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I don’t know. I mean, Cucciolo is reopening in a few days.” He paused, and when Yuuko didn’t didn’t take up the conversation he tried, “It’ll probably be fine.”

“Yeah, probably,” she agreed. Yuuri could tell she knew that that wasn’t what was really preoccupying him; she knew him too well for that.

Yuuri rolled over the other way and hid his face against Yuuko’s thigh. She patted him gently on the arm. “Whatever it is, it’ll be okay,” she told him. “You have so many people who love you, you know. No matter what happens, with Cucciolo or anything else.”

~*~

Friday came and went, and Yuuri only thought of Viktor half a dozen times before they locked up for the night. He and Phichit had spent the day on finishing touches. It was just after eight when they left; they would reopen at 7 the next morning for customers, and Yuuri was sure he wouldn’t sleep a wink in the meantime. He thought about going to the Ice Palace, jumping on stage for an early set to take his mind of things. Viktor probably wouldn’t be there and the crowd was thin before 10 or 11. But what if Yuuri scanned the crowd after his set and caught Viktor’s eye (the audience was a blur without his glasses, but in his imagination he could see Viktor’s face perfectly). What if Viktor nodded at the back rooms, asked if he had time that night. If no one had rented the room. What if, worst of all, Viktor was there and ignored him?

Yuuri sighed. Dancing wouldn’t be the distraction he really needed tonight. Phichit was always there for him, but he didn’t want to bother Phichit with his issues when Phichit was managing so much of the cafe’s transition. He needed someone who wouldn’t judge, someone he could just fool around with for a few hours, no strings attached. He scrolled through his contact list and tapped Christophe’s name. Chris picked up after the second ring.

“Yuuri?” He sounded relaxed and comfortable. “How’s it going, everything set for opening tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think so. I guess we’re opening tomorrow either way,” Yuuri said.

Chris laughed softly into the phone. “I’m getting in early to make sure everything we send over is perfect. It’ll be great, don’t worry.”

“Well, I guess that’s why I’m calling you,” Yuuri said. He took a breath. “I wanted to take my mind off things…are you free to play tonight?”

He waited for Christophe to reply, listening to the other man’s steady breathing on the other end of the line.

“Yuuri…” Chris started, and trailed off. “I don’t know what to say. I like you, babe, you’re fun to play with and working with you on the cafe opening has been great. I don’t want you to think I don’t want to see you. But, Viktor told me you turned him down last week. If I played with you now it would break his heart. I couldn’t do that to him.”

“What? But,” Yuuri thought back through his interactions with Viktor over the last few weeks. Pretending they barely knew each other at the cafe, avoiding any opening to ask Yuuri for something more personal than paid companionship. “I told him I wasn’t seeing clients right now, but he was the one who didn’t want to see me outside of work! It was just professional for him, I’m sure of it.”

“Professional? Yuuri, I don’t know what he said to you but he’s head over heels. When you said you wouldn’t see him he called in sick Saturday morning. He _never_ calls in sick. I have had to wave our health inspection sticker in his face to keep him out of the bakery before.”

“Maybe he just wasn’t feeling well,” Yuuri said, getting annoyed.

“I know Viktor,” Christophe said finally. “Trust me on this, he likes you.”

“So you’re not free to play tonight,” Yuuri said. He hadn’t called Christophe to talk about Viktor.

“Sorry, not tonight. We both have an early morning anyway. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow chérie, ok?”

“Yes. Goodnight Chris,” Yuuri said, and hung up the phone, feeling more frustrated than ever.

~*~

Opening day went surprisingly smoothly, in Yuuri’s opinion. He and Phichit took the morning shift together to make sure everything started out right. As promised, Christophe was there with their first pastry delivery. He had a special smile for Yuuri, which made him feel a little better, and a special profiterole that looked like a bum, which at least took his mind off things.

Their first customer opened the door just after they opened and commented enthusiastically on how nice the place looked. They had a social media promotion going on which Phichit had set up, and the case full of pastries from Victoire sold out before noon. Phichit went to get more before the end of the lunch rush.

“See, Yuuri?” he said on his way out. “I told you things would go well!”

Yuuri, starting to feel in his element now that customers were keeping him busy and cup after cup of coffee was changing hands, was able to give him a real smile in return and agree whole heartedly.

~*~

“Christophe had a lot of good ideas,” Phichit told him a few days later. The two of them texted now, apparently. “Since we’ve got the bigger social media following—well, I do anyway—we were going to promote Victoire’s pastries just, you know, photos that kind of thing. But then he had the idea to do a video shoot together! We’ll bake something together and sell it in both places, won’t that be fun?”

Yuuri nodded, not looking up from where he was curled around his phone on the couch. It would be cute, Christophe and Phichit working on something together. They could make something puppy themed for the cafe, or maybe something coffee flavored. He tuned out for a minute, thinking about cakes, then jolted out of it when Phichit called his name.

“Yuuri! I asked if you could do it on Wednesday.”

“Eh? Do what?” Yuuri asked.

“Filming! Wednesday afternoon, the bakery closes at 3 so Viktor will have time.”

“Why do you need me there?” Yuuri asked stupidly.

“It will be you and Viktor, of course,” Phichit said.

Yuuri blanched. He couldn’t face Viktor like this, not when he’d had to turn him down so recently. “Why me?” he whined. “Why not just you and Chris?”

“It has to be Viktor, he’s the face of Victoire and our big name collaborator! And I can’t be in it ‘cause I’m the camera man, so you’ll have to be Cucciolo’s representative. You can do it, can’t you?” He looked pleadingly at Yuuri, who glanced away as if he could avoid the question if he could avoiding meeting Phichit’s eyes.

“Yuuri—” Phichit started again.

“No, you’re right,” Yuuri interrupted him. “We have to work together. As long as Viktor is okay with it, I will be too. I can’t avoid him forever.” He’d see Viktor eventually, may as well get it over with.

“Thanks,” Phichit said. He came to sit next to Yuuri on the couch and bumped shoulders affectionately. “If he’s terrible to you, we’ll think of something else. Chris can film it or something.”

“No, it’ll be ok.” Yuuri sighed. He didn’t want to give Viktor the satisfaction of running away after being rejected. If he was going to be as famous as Viktor one day—if he was going to beat Viktor at anything—he would have to suck it up. “It will only be a few hours. I’ll be fine.”

~*~

The following Wednesday Yuuri and Phichit ended their shifts at 3 and walked over to Victoire. They knocked on the back door and were greeted enthusiastically by Chris, who pinched them both on the butt as they walked past him into the baking area. Yuuri had never been back here. It was smaller than he expected, and packed with equipment. Long tables were set up as work areas, some wooden butcher block style and one stainless steel. Large mixers were lined up on one side of the space, and the ovens dominated a back wall.

“Not the best lighting,” Phichit mused, looking around. “Not bad though. Can we set up over there?” he pointed to a table lit by some of the high windows that surrounded the space.

“I’ll get Viktor,” Chris said. “We’ve been preparing some crème diplomat for the profiteroles, I think he’s over by the pastry fridge. We’ll have to bring a hot plate over for the choux pastry but otherwise it’s all set up.“ He left, walking farther into the bakery.

Yuuri tried not to think too much about how Viktor would act when he came over. Viktor hadn’t texted since Yuuri had told him he wasn’t seeing anyone. Chris had said he was upset and Yuuri could picture pain in his eyes, a coldness from him that would hurt after they’d been so physically intimate, but it was something he could live with. It was better than risking his own heart for someone who wouldn’t treat it with care.

Chris came back with a hot plate, a bag of flour, and a small bowl of eggs. Viktor was following after him with a pan and more baking supplies in his arms. He looked…fine. In fact, his face lit up when he saw Yuuri, and Yuuri found himself flushing with an uncomfortable mixture of anger and desire. It wasn’t fair that Viktor could still be happy to see him, especially here, when they were meeting as colleagues, when he’d never wanted to see him out of the bedroom before.

“Hello,” Viktor chirped. He put his stuff down and held out his hand to shake. “I’m Viktor, we’ve met a few times at the cafe.”

_Met a few times!?_ Yuuri wanted to shriek. _I jerked you off with my feet and you’re acting like we met once at a party._ But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and said hello, and avoided the outstretched hand. He took a petty victory in seeing Viktor’s face fall as he let his hand drop.

Chris shot Yuuri a look he chose not to interpret, and they all turned toward Phichit, who cleared his throat and pointed them toward where they should stand to show up well on the video.

“What are we making?” Phichit asked.

“Coffee profiteroles,” Chris answered. “We’ve already done the filling so you two can just make the choux pastry and fill the buns, okay?”

Yuuri nodded. He looked to Viktor, who was weighing out ingredients and didn’t look up. “Well,” Yuuri said. “Let’s start.”

Viktor was an exacting teacher. He directed Yuuri to melt butter in the pot, wincing when he stirred it too vigorously and correcting his grip on the wooden spoon. Next was adding flour.

“Beat it quickly,” Viktor said, “but not too roughly.” Yuuri tried. It didn’t want to combine; there were lumps of butter resolutely holding together and a thick layer of flour that seemed determined to go nowhere except the sides of the pot.

“Like this,” Viktor said, reaching for the pot. Yuuri jerked it away from him.

“I can do it,” he said. He flailed at the batter more vigorously, spattering some on his glasses.

“Shit.” He put the pot back on the hot plate and took his glasses off. Chris handed him a towel but wiping them just left a greasy smear across the lenses.

“I have to go wash these,” he said. Chris pointed him to a handwashing sink behind the table they were using. Yuuri rinsed them as best he could, taking his time. He hated making a fool of himself in front of everyone like this. He had to keep himself in control. He hooked his glasses onto the front of his shirt and splashed some cold water on his face, cooling his heated cheeks, and took a deep breath. He wiped his face off with a paper towel, then turned back toward Viktor, Phichit and Chris, combing his wet bangs back off his face with one hand.

“Alright,” he said, looking up at Viktor. “Let’s try that again.”

Viktor just stared at him, slack-jawed.

“What?” Yuuri asked. He brought his hands up to his face and wiped them over his cheeks and nose. “Do I have something on my face?”

Viktor looked from Yuuri to Chris and back. “You’re Eros!” he said accusingly. “He’s Eros!” he said, to Chris, like he was expecting some kind of explanation.

Yuuri had no idea what was going on. “You know about Eros,” Yuuri told him. “I don’t understand, of course you know, you _hired_ me.”

“You didn’t know?” Chris was asking Viktor, who shook his head. “How did you not know?”

“I don’t know! He just looks different!” Viktor said. He sounded sincerely shocked and a bit distressed at the revelation. “Eros is all dangerous and sexy and Yuuri is just so cute!” And finally the other shoe dropped, and Yuuri realized Viktor knew about Yuuri’s job as Eros, and he knew about Yuuri’s job at Cucciolo, and somehow the beautiful idiot had managed not to put two and two together and realize he was all the same person.

Yuuri put his glasses back on. He started to think back through all their interactions over the last month or so. Viktor had noticed him for the first time that day when he brought in his new puppy, and Yuuri’s long standing crush, which he could just about deal with when Viktor ignored him any time he came to Cucciolo, had roared to life with a vengeance. Just a few days later Chris had whistled him over at the Ice Palace. Without his glasses on, Yuuri hadn’t realized until too late that Viktor was the other man at the table. It had been beyond embarrassing, but once he committed he really committed.

He’d thought that was a real connection, and their first session had gone so well. But then the next day at Cucciolo Viktor had acted like they’d never met before. It had felt like a slap in the face, and after he’d made it clear in his texts he was only interested in sex, Yuuri had rationalized that Viktor wanted to keep their relationship to the bedroom, and that had been that.

But if it had been merely ignorance, and not calculated to keep Yuuri at arm’s length…He remembered Chris saying how upset Viktor was when Yuuri had refused their next appointment. But then again, if Viktor really liked him—if he liked Yuuri-the-barista as well as Yuuri-the-dominant—there had been nothing keeping Viktor from asking Yuuri out at the cafe if Viktor liked him that much. And if Viktor had had feelings for Yuuri-as-Eros, why had he been so determined not to show them? This certainly explained a lot of Viktor’s behavior, but in the end, Yuuri was still hurt and confused and had no idea how they’d gotten to this point.

Yuuri realized everyone else was waiting for him to say something.

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’re all adults here. Viktor, I understand if you don’t want to work with me, but I’m willing to do the video if you are. I promise I won’t let my feelings get in the way of anything.

Viktor frowned at him. “What do you mean? Your feelings? Of course I’m willing to work with you.”

“But you don’t like me!” Yuuri protested. “I mean—”

“I don’t like you?” Viktor interrupted him. “Yuuri, I would have done anything you asked to see you again. You were the one who called it off! I thought you must hate me for some reason.”

“No!” Yuuri was so surprised he shouted. “I’ve liked—I’ve admired you so much for years. When Chris sent you to me I couldn’t pass up the chance to see what you were like. But then you obviously just wanted sex,” Yuuri told him. “I respect that. I just ask that you respect my feelings too. I won’t bother you, I promise. We can all be professional about it.”

Viktor just stared at him, shock and confusion written on his face. “Yuuri—” he started, and then broke off and rushed back to the hot plate. “Dammit!” He switched it off and grabbed the pot but it was too late—now that he wasn’t focused so strongly on Viktor, Yuuri could smell the dough burning.

“Oh, how unfortunate!” Christophe swept in between them, taking the pot out of Viktor’s hands. “Guess we’ll have to start over, I’ll go get another pot. Phichit? Come help.”

Phichit snapped to attention and followed Chris away to another part of the bakery, winking at Yuuri as he left.

Viktor huffed out a soft laugh. “They mean well,” he said.

“Mm,” Yuuri agreed, smiling despite himself.

“Yuuri,” Viktor said. “You really liked me?”

Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to speak, but he nodded. When he looked up, Viktor was standing closer than before, his eyes thoughtful and his soft, sweet mouth, parted. Without even thinking about it, Yuuri tilted his head up for a kiss, and his heart burned so hot he thought he’d disappear into ash when Viktor moved to meet him. They kissed gently, carefully, but between one breath and the next Viktor had him crowded back against the counter, their thighs pressed together and their lips and tongues moving together with abandon.

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmured his name again when they pulled apart for air. “I can’t quite believe this is happening. I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you on stage. And if I never mentioned my feelings for the barista—you, I mean, at the cafe—it was only because my feelings for Eros were so strong I wasn’t sure I could be with anyone else.”

Yuuri was stunned, his thoughts drowned out by his blood rushing in his ears.

“So,” Viktor said, running his thumb along Yuuri’s lower lip. “Will you see me again? As Eros? Or as Yuuri, if you don’t want to be Eros anymore.”

Yuuri laughed at that, a short, surprised laugh that bubbled out of him unexpectedly. “Viktor you can have both. All of me. Whatever you want,” he said, and pulled Viktor in to another kiss.

A few minutes later Chris and Phichit returned, having obviously watched the whole thing.

“Yaaay, you made up!” Phichit said, clapping a little, while Christophe smirked behind him.

Yuuri blushed and gently pushed Viktor away from between his legs. “Uh, yes,” he said awkwardly, fighting the urge to adjust himself. “We’re fine. Let’s just do the pastries now.”

They got back to work, starting a new batch of pastry. Yuuri, no longer so angry but still finding difficulty relaxing in the face of Viktor’s attention, still had trouble, but between the two of them they got the pastries in the oven.

Christophe and Phichit left again while they waited for the buns to cook, ostensibly to wash the pot, though Yuuri was sure they were just giving him and Viktor some time to themselves again. He caught Viktor’s eye, and gave him another smile. Well, time alone wasn’t exactly unwanted.

“So,” Yuuri said. “Can I see you again sometime?”

Viktor grinned. “How’s Friday night?”

~*~

They met for dinner Friday night. Yuuri got there a few minutes late, rushing into the restaurant and hoping he hadn’t gotten too sweaty on his way over. Viktor was waiting for him at a table with a teasing look in his eye.

“I was starting to think you stood me up,” he said lightly, though Yuuri wondered if he wasn’t trying to cover up an actual worry.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri said, a little too loudly even for the bustling restaurant they’d picked. “The bus took longer than I thought. Have you been here long?”

Viktor shook his head and smiled “No, just a few minutes.”

Yuuri had been worrying that dinner together would be awkward. After all, in many ways they barely knew each other. At first he stumbled over inconsequential small talk, asking Viktor if he’d eaten here before, and commenting on how nice the weather had been that week. But Viktor responded warmly to everything, as if he found it genuinely charming that Yuuri wanted to know his opinion on the menu, and he really did want to talk about the good weather. Soon Yuuri relaxed enough not to pick over his words so carefully, and before he knew it they were looking at a dessert menu, and Viktor was asking if he’d want to share a slice of chocolate tart.

The tart was delicious, but Yuuri found himself toying with his half, trying to stretch it out. He didn’t want dinner to end, and he couldn’t stop wondering what Viktor expected afterward. Would Yuuri be moving to fast if he invited Viktor to come home with him? Would that be too much like their sessions at the Ice Palace? Maybe Yuuri was was moving too fast even thinking about it, and Viktor actually wanted to date him for a while before they had sex again. Or maybe he was just respecting Yuuri’s space, and waiting for Yuuri to say something.

Viktor still hadn’t mentioned anything by the time they were leaving the restaurant. When he mentioned needing to call a cab, Yuuri threw caution to the wind and blurted out, “Viktor, please come home with me!”

To Yuuri’s surprise Viktor blushed, his cheeks turning a bright pink that stood out against his fair skin. Yuuri wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Viktor like this before

“Ah, if you’re sure—” Viktor stumbled a little over the words. “I didn’t want to presume. But I’d love to, if you want to.”

“Please?” Yuuri said, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

“Then I will,” Viktor said, and smiled.

The drive took about twenty minutes and Yuuri spent the whole time resisting the urge to pull Viktor over the back seat of the cab and into his lap. From the looks Viktor kept sending his way, he was feeling the same way.

Yuuri texted Phichit from the cab to let him know he was bringing Viktor over, but Phichit was one step ahead of him.

**Phichit: Already at Christophe’s!! The apartment’s all yours ;9**

Yuuri and Phichit split a two-bedroom in a nondescript block of apartments toward the outskirts of the city. When Yuuri unlocked the door and cautiously opened it, the main living area it opened into was cluttered but not as bad as he’d expected; Phichit must have stuffed some of the constant mess in a closet before he’d left for Christophe’s.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked Viktor after they’d stepped inside, unsure of what the other man expected. Yuuri hadn’t brought someone home in ages, and while he’d be happy to go straight to the bedroom (or the couch, whatever), maybe Viktor expected something else.

“Not particularly.” Viktor shrugged casually but he looked uncomfortable, like he was too aware of being in a strange place. Yuuri’s first thought was to ask him to kneel, to take that uncertainty away from him, and he suddenly realized he didn’t know if Viktor even _wanted_ to scene outside of the Ice Palace.

“We can have vanilla sex, you know,” he said, realizing as he said it how awkward he sounded. “That is, if you don’t want to scene tonight—I know we did that before when, when I was Eros, but—”

“No!” Viktor interrupted. “I mean, yes. Please. Yuuri—”

He knelt, and Yuuri’s breath caught sharp on an inhale. It was so much like the first night Viktor had come to him, when he’d knelt so perfectly and Yuuri had barely lasted five minutes with him.

“Same safewords?” Yuuri asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Viktor nodded.

Yuuri was tempted to bend him over and take him right here. Instead he leaned down and traced his fingertips along Viktor’s jaw, down to where his pulse was hammering so hard Yuuri could see it fluttering against his skin. It was the first time they’d touched since they'd left the restaurant; Yuuri felt it everywhere, arousal suddenly stirring like someone blowing on hot coals and sparking a fire back to life.

“Nervous?” he asked. His own heart was beating just as fast.

Viktor shook his head. “Excited.”

~*~

Yuuri’s bedroom wasn’t the professionally designed, aesthetically coordinated set they had at the Ice Palace. He had mismatched furniture acquired piece by piece over the years, his laundry hamper was visible where the closet door didn’t quite close, and his walls were decorated haphazardly with old posters and photos.

“Sorry it’s kind of a mess,” Yuuri said self consciously when he noticed Viktor looking around. He suddenly wished he’d thought to clean up before he’d gone out to dinner.

“No need to apologize. It’s _you_ ,” Viktor said, and Yuuri felt his cheeks go hot. He pushed Viktor toward the bed to cover his embarrassment and told him to get undressed while he went to see what he could find in the disorganized toy box in his closet. His palms were sweaty as he dug through cuffs and floggers, trying to decide what to do tonight when what he wanted to do was “everything”.

He stopped when his fingers brushed coiled rope and pulled out what he’d found: two lengths of black nylon. That would do. A spreader bar was wedged in the bottom of the box. He grabbed that too and turned back to the bed, pleased to see Viktor naked and waiting for him just as he’d asked.

Yuuri took a moment to look. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of this view. Viktor was sitting up against the headboard looking expectant but relaxed. Pale skin, pink nipples, his cock hard and flushed darker red just visible between his legs, Viktor looked like a vision from one of Yuuri’s wet dreams.

Yuuri left the bar and one length of rope at the end of the bed and climbed up. He crawled his way up Viktor and straddled his hips. “You’re ok with rope?” he asked, untying the bundle he’d grabbed and uncoiling it.

“Yes,” Viktor said simply. He let Yuuri guide him to lie down and position his arms overhead, wrists crossed. Yuuri leaned over him to bind them together, letting himself sit heavy on Viktor’s chest, knowing Viktor would be able to feel his half-hard cock through his pants. He shifted a little, teasing himself as much as Viktor, and tied off the rope.

“Anything in particular you want to do tonight?” he asked.

Yuuri looked down to note Viktor’s response and was surprised to see hurt in his eyes.

“What is it?” Yuuri asked.

Viktor frowned. “I’m not your _client_ tonight,” he said.

Yuuri jerked back feeling like he’d been slapped. Did Viktor really think Yuuri was putting on a show for him now? “Did it even occur to you that maybe I want you to enjoy this?” Yuuri asked incredulously.

As soon as he said it he wished he’d said something nicer. He could be impulsive sometimes, and sometimes it bit him in the ass. But Viktor just looked shocked, then chagrined.

“Sorry,” Viktor said. “I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri interrupted him before he could make it a big deal. He didn’t want to get this wrong tonight. It had been hard enough when Viktor was a client and he’d had time to plan the session in advance. Without his professionalism to fall back on, without the extra strength being “Eros” gave him, Yuuri was too aware of all the ways he could screw up whatever this was between them.

“Viktor, is this really ok?” he asked, needing reassurance.

Viktor gave him a soft look, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Of course it’s ok,” he said. He wriggled a little between Yuuri’s thighs and looked at him beseechingly through his lashes. “Don’t stop just because I said something wrong. Ask me again?”

Butterflies started up in Yuuri’s stomach as he smiled back. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be perfect, but it could still be good.

“What do you want tonight?” Yuuri asked again.

“I’m happy with whatever you give me,” Viktor said. “But, I still haven’t seen you naked,” he pointed out. “I’d like that.”

Yuuri hadn’t even realized. “I guess I can do that.” Yuuri said. “First, let’s make sure you aren’t going anywhere.”

He tied Viktor’s bound wrists to the headboard before climbing off and standing to the side of the bed where he’d be easy to see. It was easier to take his clothes off when he was safely behind glitter and stage lights. Here in his bedroom, he was all too aware of the awkward bits of his body it was difficult to let other people see. But Viktor was watching with nothing but anticipation in his eyes, and Yuuri couldn’t deny him what he wanted.

Yuuri lowered his gaze, not wanting to watch Viktor watch him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his fingers found the first button on his shirt. He kept his eyes on his fingers as he worked, and didn’t look up until he shrugged his shirt off. Viktor was moving restlessly, hands clenching together where he held them over his head as his eyes raked over Yuuri’s bare chest. Yuuri shed his pants as quickly as he could, then turned around so Viktor could admire his ass as he bent over to step out of them, and to take off his socks.

Yuuri turned around in just his underwear. Viktor was practically drooling. Yuuri struck a pose and stroked a finger up the ridge of his cock where it pressed against his briefs. The thrill he got was an intimate echo of the feeling he got on stage, goading the audience and getting off on it.

“Is this good?” he asked.

Viktor swallowed, his adam’s apple dipping. “Amazing,” He said. Then added, “You’re not naked though.”

Yuuri wiggled his briefs down his hips and let them fall to the floor.

“That’s perfect,” Viktor said. He moved as if to reach out before realizing his hands were tied, and that made Yuuri’s heart race, seeing Viktor barely restrained but still struggling with it.

He came back to the bed and straddled Viktor again, making sure his ass was just close enough to Viktor’s erection to brush teasingly against him without actually being close enough to rub against. He leaned down, nose to nose with Viktor. “We’ve never kissed before either,” he said softly. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” Viktor breathed, and before he’d finished saying the word Yuuri had moved the rest of the way to kiss it from his lips.

Viktor tasted sweet. He smelled like aftershave and expensive cologne and flour from his bakery. Yuuri licked into his mouth and moaned when Viktor’s tongue stroked his, the two of them rocking together, pressing closer as they kissed. When they broke apart it was only so Yuuri could move to kiss along his jaw, to his ear, to find a spot on his neck that made Viktor whine and buck his hips up.

Yuuri could tell Viktor wanted to grab him and keep him there so just to tease, Yuuri moved, brushing his lips lightly along Viktor’s collar bone to the other side of his jaw where he let his breath tickle Viktor’s pulse point. Yuuri kissed him there and Viktor moaned, his arms jerking forward again. Yuuri let him move while he indulge himself in Viktor’s skin, nipping and licking and sucking until Viktor’s breath came loud and panting.

Yuuri sat back, giving Viktor a moment to breathe. Viktor was looking up at him, his eyes dazed with lust and a thin sheen of sweat glossing his chest and shoulders. It was beautiful. Yuuri scraped a nail down Viktor’s chest, from the hollow between his collarbones down to one nipple, and felt a delighted shiver up his spine as Viktor grimaced and arched toward him at the same time.

_Fuck_ , Yuuri thought, which was about as intellectual as he could get right now. He wanted to take Viktor apart piece by piece. Whichever part of him got off on pain and control was riding high now, his thoughts buzzing as he tried to decide what to do with Viktor tonight, since _everything, all at once_ wasn’t really possible. Having him as a client had been one thing, but having him here, in his bed—it really was different, heady and intimate in a whole new way.

He pinched Viktor’s nipple just to see him arch into it, then bent down to kiss it better, licking as it peaked under his tongue and then biting it. He worried it gently with his teeth and Viktor moaned. With his other hand he reached behind him, finding the tip of Viktor’s cock by feel and stroking it while he bit and kissed and licked.

When he felt he had Viktor worked up enough Yuuri stopped completely. He moved off of Viktor to grab the spreader bar he’d left at the end of the bed while Viktor moaned at the loss of him. “This is kind of self indulgent,” Yuuri admitted as he buckled Viktor’s ankles into the cuffs at the ends of the bar. “I just—. Something about having you open for me like this…” He trailed off, unable or unwilling to explain himself while Viktor looked up at him with adoration and trust in his eyes. _Maybe I should’ve grabbed a blindfold_ , he thought as he glanced away. Some of this amazing situation was still too hard to believe, and Viktor needed him in control right now. If he thought about it too much, he’d just run around the living room yelling that this couldn’t be happening.

Mentally putting his anxieties aside, Yuuri pushed the bar up toward Viktor’s hands. There was a D-ring in the center of the bar, and when Viktor proved to be flexible enough for the position, Yuuri tied a quick loop of rope through the D-ring and around the knot between Viktor’s wrists.

“Perfect,” he said, sitting back to look at his handiwork. The position was intentionally awkward and exposing for a sub; Viktor’s knees were pushed up by his shoulders and his feet were trapped overhead. He would barely be able to move, but he wouldn’t have to since his cock and his hole were both within easy reach. Yuuri ran a finger down Viktor’s thigh and watched the muscle shiver beneath his touch. Viktor moaned when he got close to his groin, and he almost yelped when Yuuri let his finger brush lower, just barely touching his hole.

“Not yet,” he said, half to himself, and laughed when Viktor groaned. Yuuri smirked at him “Remember when you said you’d beg for my cock?”

“I’ll beg right now if you want me to,” Viktor said breathlessly.

“Go ahead,” Yuuri said. “But I’m not going to rush.”

_I’d do this all night if I could_ , he thought, bending down to take Viktor into his mouth. He savored the moment, closing his eyes and memorizing the taste and feel of Viktor’s cock on his tongue. Yuuri stroked his shaft with one hand, the other bracing himself against the bed as he bent lower. Viktor whined, wanting more, but he didn’t have the leverage even to push his hips up. All he could do was squirm as Yuuri sucked delicately at the tip of his cock, lapping up the precome that beaded there.

Yuuri wet two of his fingers and reached down to circle them around Viktor’s hole. His own cock jerked when he touched Viktor, and Viktor’s legs shivered around Yuuri’s shoulders.

“Please,” Viktor said, his voice tense. Yuuri ignored him, keeping his fingers light and teasing. He circled his fingers again, matching their movements with his tongue around the head of Viktor’s cock, and grinned when Viktor whined.

“ _Please_ ,” Viktor begged. “Please, please, Yuuri.”

In response Yuuri let go of Viktor entirely and reached around him to get condoms and lube out of his bedside table. It was awkward; Yuuri had to lean up against Viktor’s legs and he couldn’t really see what he was doing. But he didn’t want to stop touching long enough to get what he needed, and he liked the excuse to rub skin to skin against Viktor.

He rummaged around for a bit, finally closing his fingers on foil. He grabbed the condom and the embarrassingly empty bottle of lube and sat back up, making himself comfortable kneeling in front of Viktor.

A minute ago, Viktor had been vibrating with tension. Now he was slack in his restraints. Yuuri put a hand on the back of Viktor’s thigh and stroked up toward his knee. He hoped Viktor was just enjoying submission but still, he wanted to check in.

“Color?” Yuuri asked.

It took Viktor a moment to respond, and when he did his voice was slightly hoarse, as if his throat had gone dry.

“Green,” he said.

Yuuri smiled. He leaned down between Viktor’s legs to quickly kiss him, just because he could, then coated two fingers with the lube. He pressed them against Viktor’s ass, steady pressure against the muscle there until one popped in. Viktor made barely audible noises when he tugged at the rim a little and Yuuri smiled, teasing him to draw out more breathy, half-voiced pants.

“I think now’s the time to beg for it,” Yuuri said casually, watching the tips of his fingers playing in and out of Viktor’s hole.

“Yuuri,” Viktor drew his name out, making it a plea. “Please, please.”

“Mm?” Yuuri twisted his fingers deeper, rubbing inside and making Viktor squirm. He palmed himself with his other hand, feeling his balls tighten and heat gathering under his skin.

“Fuck me,” Viktor begged.

The words made arousal clench tight all through Yuuri’s body in a delicious shiver.

“Say it again,” he said.

“Fuck me, Yuuri.”

“Nnngh.”

Yuuri rubbed his cock across Viktor’s hole, desperate now to hold off as long as he could. Viktor’s cock was dark and so hard it was straining away from his belly, a translucent string of precome trailing from its head. Yuuri stroked it, palmed the head of it, precome and lube making it slippery in his hand.

“Ah!” Viktor cried out when Yuuri closed his hand on him. Yuuri stroked again as he pushed the tip of his cock into the tight heat of Viktor’s ass. Viktor’s cock pulsed in his hand, impossibly harder, and Yuuri knew he was right at the edge. He stroked again and pushed his cock in, angling to hit Viktor just right, and Viktor cried out again and came.

Viktor’s whole body tensed, his arms and legs tight against their restraints as he came in long, slow pulses over Yuuri’s hand. Yuuri found he was breathing with him, gasping with it as he thrust in time to Viktor’s body. He could feel his own orgasm cresting, an inevitable pleasure pulling through his body, and before Viktor had finished Yuuri was following him over the edge, crying out with it and collapsing as the last shivers of it ran through him.

Yuuri let himself stay there for a moment, skin to skin with Viktor as their sweat cooled between them. Then Viktor shifted restlessly, and Yuuri pulled out to untie him and clean them both up.

Later, after Yuuri had rubbed the tension out of Viktor’s shoulders, they lay naked together, facing each other side by side in bed. Yuuri couldn’t stop staring at Viktor. He was smiling softly, his eyes drowsy and content. Yuuri could feel an answering smile on his own face. Viktor reached a hand between them and Yuuri mirrored him, letting their fingers tangle together. For a moment, everything was perfect. Then without warning, something in Yuuri crumbled, and he was suddenly close to tears.

Viktor’s fingers tightened around his. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. He really didn’t. He’d just gone on a date with Viktor, it had gone so well they’d gone home together and now they were lying here in post-coital bliss. But life was never just easy. If it looked like he had his happy ending, didn’t that just mean something terrible was waiting around the corner? He let out an ugly, tearful sob. He closed his eyes but he knew Viktor was watching him, less than an arms length away.

This had to be when Viktor realized he made a mistake, Yuuri realized. Yuuri wasn’t everything Viktor thought he was. He wasn’t confident, or sexy, or any of those things.

Viktor reached out and wiped a tear from Yuuri’s cheek with his thumb.

“What did I do?” Viktor asked. He sounded strained and hurt, and that snapped Yuuri out of it better than anything else could have.

“Nothing!” Yuuri rushed to reassure him. “It’s me. I’m—I mean, look at me. I’m a mess. I just took over a business and I’m terrified it’s going to fail. There’s so much that could go wrong between us, how do you know this is a good idea?”

Viktor looked at him indulgently. “Yuuri I have no idea, but whatever happens, I want this.” He reached out and Yuuri let Viktor pull him closer, until he was wrapped in Viktor’s arms. “I don’t know the future,” Viktor said. “I don’t know how Cucciolo will do, or what will happen to us, but Yuuri, you inspire me.” He squeezed Yuuri tighter. “You have so much passion for what you do. I want my next magazine cover to have you on it too. Better yet,” he continued, “I want you on _all_ the magazines! I’ll frame them and put them up in Victoire and tell everyone who comes in how amazing my boyfriend is.”

Yuuri couldn’t help laughing, his heart lightening as he let Viktor tell him how successful he was going to be.


	5. Epilogue

Yuri Plisetsky slammed open the front door to Victoire. He'd stopped coming in the back after he'd nearly walked into Viktor making out with his new boyfriend up against a counter.

“Oy!” he yelled as he stalked past the front counter toward the office. “Coffee. I need it.”

“Excuse me?”

That wasn’t Mila. The voice was low, masculine, and deadly calm. It shivered right down Yuri’s spine and tangled in his nerve endings.

He stuck his head around the back shelves. Mila wasn’t there, and the percolator had been shoved into the back corner. On the counter where it usually sat someone was setting up a fancy espresso machine, fiddling with a water hookup under the counter. He stood up at looked at Yuri.

“You want coffee?” he asked. “The old stuff?” he gestured at the percolator with a tilt of his head.

Yuri opened his mouth to say yes, then nearly bit his tongue stopping himself. This guy was…so cool. He had dark hair, long on top with an undercut. His sleeves were rolled up showing off strong forearms with a dusting of dark hair. His eyes were serious and his heavy eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He looked so cool, and he was installing their new espresso machine.

“I want an espresso.” Yuri said, more forcefully than he really felt. He’d never had one before. He didn’t like milk in his drinks and it was probably too bitter on its own, but he _had_ to impress this guy.

“The machine’s not set up yet.”

“Then give me one when it’s ready!” he stormed into the office and slammed the door behind himself.

Shit! He’d panicked, he shouldn’t have yelled. But he didn’t want to look like a dork going out an apologizing now. Yuri swore at himself again and opened up the bakery’s email inbox to start triaging inquiries.

There was a knock on the door half an hour later, and the hot guy opened the door, a mug in his hand.

“This is for you,” he said.

Yuri took it suspiciously. “Is this from the percolator? I can handle an espresso you know.”

“It’s an Americano. Espresso and some hot water so it’s closer to the strength of an American coffee, but with a darker flavor from the espresso roast.”

Yuri sipped it.

“It’s good!”

The coffee guy smiled and Yuri couldn’t help smiling back.

“I’m Yuri,” he said. “I handle the office for the losers out back.”

“Otabek,” the coffee guy said. “I’ll be your new barista. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same,” said Yuri, taking another sip of his coffee.

It really was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everyone! I spent so much time and love on this fic, and so many people helped along the way, I'm so happy to have it posted now so I can share it with this lovely fandom.


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